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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385908">Chronicles of the Black Company</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kireteiru/pseuds/kireteiru'>kireteiru</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Variations on a Theme [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games), TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works &amp; Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU of an AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because Sometimes You Just Have to Say Screw Canon, Boromir Lives, F/M, Fix-It, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Mordor, Multi, Necromancy, Orcs Are People Too, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Worldbuilding, only a little bit of angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:48:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kireteiru/pseuds/kireteiru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AU of an AU. "Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there. I did not die." ~Mary Elizabeth Frye, "Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep"<br/>When the newly-crowned King of Gondor receives grave news concerning Mordor after the War of the Ring, he decides he must investigate for himself - and Arwen insists that they cannot go alone. Yet none of them could have expected what they found within the Mountains of Ash and Shadow.</p><p>Death isn't always the end. Sometimes it's the beginning.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel, Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel/Boromir (Son of Denethor II), Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Ioreth (Shadow of Mordor)/Talion (Shadow of Mordor), Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Talion (Shadow of Mordor), Idril (Shadow of Mordor)/Baranor (Shadow of Mordor), Ioreth/Talion (Shadow of Mordor), Éowyn/Faramir (Son of Denethor II)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Variations on a Theme [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1485791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>147</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue: Defied Destiny</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourlocalbirb/gifts">yourlocalbirb</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningStarborne/gifts">LightningStarborne</a>.</li>


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/15533550">Death Seems To Him A Mere Play</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningStarborne/pseuds/LightningStarborne">LightningStarborne</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourlocalbirb/pseuds/yourlocalbirb">yourlocalbirb</a>.
        </li>
        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/15634968">What Makes You Come Alive</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningStarborne/pseuds/LightningStarborne">LightningStarborne</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourlocalbirb/pseuds/yourlocalbirb">yourlocalbirb</a>.
        </li>
        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/15582882">The Ninth</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningStarborne/pseuds/LightningStarborne">LightningStarborne</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourlocalbirb/pseuds/yourlocalbirb">yourlocalbirb</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>AU of yourlocalbirb and lightningstarborn's Last of the Nine series; not really required reading, but HIGHLY recommended none the less. I've got 15 chapters done, so maybe posting this will force me to actually finish it. *laughs my way off into the distance*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Prologue: Defied Destiny</h1><hr/><p>The lava had finally cooled enough for him to leave the fortress on his search. The pretty - and pretty <em>scary</em> - Elf lady had said that there was no hope before she left, but he wasn't so sure. He hadn't ever been bonded to the Boss through the Ring like the others, but he <em>did</em> know that the Boss was <em>tough</em>, a survivor; he had to have been to survive <em>decades</em> in Mordor.</p><p>Even if he <em>did</em> die a time or two.</p><p>Ratbag hurried through what was left of Gorgoroth, keeping his eyes peeled for absolutely anything that didn’t belong and scrambling up on top of boulder piles in an attempt to see further. That <em>shrakh </em>Muzu had told Ranger that he saw them go down in this direction, but exactly how far away they were was anyone’s guess-</p><p>Wingbeats made him look up - right before he scrambled out of the way. A <em>massive </em>fire drake came down nearly on top of him, landing with a <em>thud</em> that made the ground shake under him. When he saw the black harness, he hurried to prostrate himself before the creature. “F-Fëanor,” he said with a shaky grin, “Long time no see, hey? H-how ya been? How’re the mate and the hatchlings?”</p><p>She bared her teeth at him and growled in clear demand, a hint of flames glowing in her throat.</p><p>“Th-they’re supposed to be this way, but I ain’t found any of ‘em yet!” he nearly yelped, scrambling backwards again to put some distance between them. Wouldn't do a thing if she spit fire at him, but at least she couldn't eat him right away.</p><p>The fire drake huffed and stretched her neck up, lifted her head as high as it would go and peered around. Then she took off with a shriek, and Ratbag raced after her - as much as he could, anyway. The ground was uneven and unstable, but he tried his best.</p><p>He felt the vibration when she landed a little ways off and slowed his pace, squinting through the ash and dust she kicked up, coughing and waving his arms in an attempt to clear the air.</p><p>And there he was, his fire drake looming protectively over him where he lay face down in the ash.</p><p>Talion was as he had been before his fall, before he disappeared into Sauron’s dark hold, armored in black steel and darkened gold, his cloak a little singed, his blades scattered around him, some of the dust starting to settle on him. Ratbag quickly scooped the blades up and put them to rights - he knew how much the short one meant to the Boss, even if he himself had forgotten - then warily approached, setting them down at Talion’s side.</p><p>The Man was so still.</p><p>“Ranger?” Ratbag whispered, reaching out a hand but letting it hover hesitantly over the Ringwraith’s back without touching. “Ranger? Are you…?”</p><p>No response. He still wasn’t moving.</p><p>Ratbag bit his lip, and for only the second time in his life, he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. “<em>Ranger?</em>” he tried again, a little louder, an edge of panic in his voice.</p><p>Fëanor whined softly and nudged the Man’s shoulder, and <em>that</em> finally got a response: a low grunt, almost a groan, and a flex of armored fingers, claws scoring lines in the ash.</p><p>Ratbag’s shoulders slumped in relief so strong that for a moment he felt faint. He quickly wiped his eyes even as Talion stirred further, then helped the Man roll onto his back. His eyes were still closed, his skin still blitzed with darkness, and his front was stained with dry black blood that seemed to have come from the scar on his throat. But whatever wound it may have been, it was sealed now - although all the blood made him look even more ghastly than usual.</p><p>The orc briefly held a hand in front of the Man’s mouth and felt slow, ice-cold breaths against his skin. Then he sat back and nodded. “Right then,” he said, looking up at the fire drake, “I’m gonna go get help. You stay here and keep an eye on him.”</p><p>Fëanor snarled at him, and Ratbag yelped and raced away into the ruins of Sauron’s empire.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. One: One They Fear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>One: One They Fear</h1><p>Gondor had not had dealings with Elves in generations, and now that most of them had sailed, they never would again, even though one of said Elves was now their queen. As a result, few people of Gondor were aware of exactly how keen their ears were.</p><p>Legolas, visiting from Ithilien, brought them the news directly rather than risking it passing through hands that might be tempted to turn it aside and bury it where it would never reach their ears. “One of the Nine yet lives.”</p><p>Aragorn looked up from his work at once, Arwen and Faramir doing the same at his side. Gimli choked on the pipe he’d been smoking. The king checked him long enough to ensure he would not meet his end from it, then refocused on the Elf, saying, “You are certain?”</p><p>“I have seen him with my own eyes,” the other answered, “but I am… confused.”</p><p>“Speak, <em>mellon nín</em>,” said the Man, “Tell us what you know.”</p><p>“As you know, I have been in Ithilien, seeing to the recovery of the land,” said Legolas, “The Rangers there have always been wary of outsiders, even other Gondorians, but one night, when they thought themselves alone, drink loosened their tongues. I overheard them talking, but what truly caught my attention was that they spoke of a new Lord of Mordor who sometimes dwells in Minas Morgul.”</p><p>“So <em>near</em>,” Faramir murmured, “A scant fifty miles distant, but we’ve never had <em>any</em> word of this from Ithilien.”</p><p>The Elf nodded in agreement. “In some ways, the Rangers guard their speech more vigilantly than the borders. Yet what confounded me then was that they spoke of him as if he had long been a friend to Gondor, and that there was nothing to fear from him taking dominion over Mordor - indeed, they spoke as if that is the best thing in the world, for Gondor and for Mordor, as if it is his <em>right</em> to rule that land.”</p><p>“So you went to the Morgul Vale to learn the truth of it,” Aragorn said, “and saw the Nazgûl there.”</p><p>Another nod. “He departed soon after I arrived, and on the back of the largest fire drake I have ever seen - red like blood with a harness that seemed blacker than the night sky, and <em>twice</em> the size of the Fellbeasts.”</p><p>“Eru have <em>mercy</em>,” said Faramir. He had had more close encounters with Fellbeasts than any Man should have had to endure.</p><p>“But that is not all,” Legolas went on, “I disguised myself and entered the city for a time. She is <em>strange</em>, Aragorn; still near to the dark, but not cold and evil like under the dominion of Sauron. And her people - you must see to believe.”</p><p>The king put down his pen and rested his elbows on the table, arms up and fingers folded before his mouth to conceal the tight press of his lips. “We need to know more about this, <em>much</em> more, before we make any decisions of any kind. I’ve no wish to force anything, but are there one or two Rangers who might be persuaded to talk to us?”</p><p>“Perhaps. Some of the younger ones, maybe, who know the secret but are not yet as guarded with their words. Some might seek to impress their king, or at least avoid trouble.”</p><hr/><p>The Elf left Minas Tirith soon after, Faramir riding alongside, and they returned a fortnight later with three young Rangers of Ithilien, one barely in his seventeenth year. They were brought before Aragorn in his study, Arwen and Gimli also present. “I’ve no doubt that you have sworn many vows of secrecy,” said the king, “I would do the same before revealing information so closely guarded as this seems to be. But for the sake of all of Gondor - and indeed, all the West - we must know about this new Lord of Mordor. Please, what do you know, or what have you been told?”</p><p>All three hesitated, looking at each other. Then the one apparently nominated to speak stepped forward. “His name is Talion, Your Majesty,” said the Ranger, Lamdir, “and he is known to some in Gondor as the <em>Gravewalker</em>.”</p><p>“That name I <em>do</em> know,” Faramir said, “Some refugees from Mordor many years past spoke of one such, but at the time I thought them only stories.” But he said nothing further, only signaled for the men to continue. </p><p>“He has other titles - Beastmaster, Nightblade, Wind-Rider… Necromancer,” Lamdir said, “I had not yet joined the Rangers at the time, but I heard tell from some of the elders that <em>all</em> the Nine survived the defeat of Sauron, but he started <em>slaughtering </em>the others and cast their rings into the fires of Doom.”</p><p>That made the king’s eyebrows climb to his hairline, and he wasn't the only one. “He <em>killed</em> the others? For what purpose?”</p><p>“To protect the West, Your Majesty,” Lamdir replied, “I’ve heard a number of tales as to the exact reasons - that they planned to continue Sauron’s work, that they intended to cross the borders of Mordor once more in search of the Ringbearer who destroyed the One and their Master, that with the passing of the Elves there are none left who might match their strength save each other, and so there was nothing to stop them from carving their kingdoms out of our own like Angmar of old. But whatever the truth may be, Talion’s response was to kill them to protect the West.”</p><p>“The Nine survived Sauron’s destruction,” Arwen half-asked to confirm, “but were also freed from his control? They returned from the darkness?”</p><p>“Yes, Your Majesty.”</p><p>“Do you think he is a threat to the West?” Aragorn asked, “Or could be?”</p><p>“He <em>could</em> be,” said Faron, the youngest, “but <em>anyone</em> could be, sire. Do we think he <em>is</em>, or <em>will be</em>? No.”</p><p>The other two nodded in agreement, and the third and eldest, Calphion, said, “He was once a Ranger of Gondor, Your Majesty. I heard as much from one of the elder Rangers once, and when I returned to Minas Tirith for a time, I checked the records myself. Talion was the last captain of the garrison at the Black Gate before it fell, though none of us know the tale of exactly how he went from Ranger to Ringwraith - if indeed <em>anyone </em>knows.”</p><p>There were more nods of assent.</p><p>Arwen inclined her head in acknowledgement, then asked, “Then perhaps you know the answer to <em>this </em>question - we have heard that he is a friend to Gondor, has been for a long time, so why is he such a closely-guarded secret even now?”</p><p>Calphion spoke again. “In this, I only know what I have been told, Your Majesty, but before Sauron met his end, there was fear that if it became known that a Ranger of Gondor wore a Ring of Power, even one of the Nine, he would end up fighting a war on two fronts - one against Sauron… and one against those from Gondor who would take his Ring for their own.”</p><p>“Then it was wise indeed to keep him hidden,” Aragorn said with a firm nod, and both Arwen and Faramir agreed with him, the latter most of all. He had lived all his life in Minas Tirith and had long seen the White City’s black heart, before the return of the king. “But why continue? Does that fear still hold?”</p><p>“That I do not know, not for sure,” Faron said, “It may just be a habit.”</p><p>“I served many years among the Rangers and kept many secrets, but I was never told of him,” said Faramir, sounding a little hurt. </p><p>“It may be that you were the son of the Steward, and now are Steward yourself, my lord,” said Calphion, “Perhaps there was fear that if you spoke unguardedly, your words would be heard and not discounted as ours would have. And also…” When the king gestured for him to continue, he said, “The records I looked at indicated that Lord - uh, <em>Captain </em>Talion, had been sent to the Black Gate for murdering a nobleman he caught in the act of assaulting his wife, herself a noble though unnamed in the records.”</p><p>Faramir nodded, a little grim, but also a little ashamed of his blood and those who shared it. “Nobles often refuse to speak of family who married <em>down</em>,” he said, his tone making clear his opinion of <em>that</em>, “and also to have them named in documents unless <em>absolutely </em>necessary. But I understand what you are saying - it is likely he has no love of the nobility, whether or not they were actually involved in his banishment.”</p><p>The Rangers all nodded again.</p><p>“One last question, though I can probably guess the answer,” said Aragorn, “If we offered a peace treaty between Gondor and Mordor, would he accept it?”</p><p>Lamdir answered without hesitation. “It would depend on the terms, but if they were fair? Yes.”</p><hr/><p>“We know more than we did, but still less than I would like,” Aragorn sighed when they had gone.</p><p>“Perhaps, but the question is, is it enough?” Arwen half-asked.</p><p>“They knew little of what is happening in Mordor, so we know even less. I wish that there were men I could trust to go and bring back true news, but all my kin have returned to the north.”</p><p>“Then perhaps you will simply have to go yourself,” the Elf said with an amused smile.</p><p>He blinked at her, and her smile widened. “I can see that you are restless, my love,” she said, “You are a king, true, but first and foremost you are a Ranger. You long to be out in the wild again, away from all of this.” She waved to his desk, piled high with missives and messages from all corners of the West. “And what is this but an opportunity to do just that? I am new to Gondor, it is true, but I am still the daughter of an Elf lord, and Faramir is long familiar with the White City and her people, and your Steward besides. Between the two of us, I think we can manage for a few days.”</p><p>Faramir agreed when he returned, though he insisted the king take at least one other man with him, just in case. Aragorn gave him leave to choose whomever he thought was best, and readied himself for the journey.</p><p>The man who met him at the gate only seemed young - at least, compared to the king, who was himself nearing ninety. When he turned to look at the older man, Aragorn saw in his eyes that he had seen far too much for his years. He was discreet as well, only inclining his head to his king before they set off on their ponies, making for the still-ruined city of Osgiliath and the crossing of the Anduin. The bridge there had been rebuilt, one of the first things Aragorn had ordered beyond the walls of Minas Tirith, so that the people of Gondor could restore and resettle Ithilien. The restoration was still ongoing, but now with this… he hoped that peace could be reached with this new Lord of Mordor. It seemed so, but there was always a chance…</p><p>When they stopped to camp for the night and made sure there was no one for some distance in all directions, Aragorn was finally able to turn to the man and say, “By what name are you known?”</p><p>“Dirhael, my lord.”</p><p>“I thank you for joining me on this trip, Dirhael, and I apologize for not speaking sooner. I did not think it wise to let all the world know that I was leaving Minas Tirith without an entire company as a guard.”</p><p>The other man nodded grimly. “Wise indeed. It is true that not all are pleased that the king has returned.”</p><p>Aragorn also nodded, equally grim. There had been nothing overt just yet, but he had received ill feelings from a few of the nobility and others.</p><p>“What shall I call you while we are afield, my lord?”</p><p>“I shall be known as Strider. Where we are going, there will be few who know that that is <em>Telcontar</em> in Quenya, so it is still as good a cover as any.”</p><p>“And where are we going, Strider?”</p><p>“Minas Morgul, to see what might be seen of the new Lord of Mordor.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Two: House of Dragons</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Posting early bc I may or may not be getting hit with a hurricane tomorrow/Sunday.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Two: House of Dragons</h1><p>Aragorn saw now why Legolas had said that he would have to see Minas Morgul to believe anything said about her people. Orcs and Men lived alike within her walls, together with a smaller number of Elves and dwarves. Like Minas Tirith, the city was still being rebuilt, but there were fields laid out in the Morgul Vale and people working them, spreading the dung of some unknown creature on the plants, which seemed to be doing very well indeed. They had also glimpsed a few small homesteads in Ithilien along the way, mostly Mannish, but there was a notable one with a number of beehives being carefully tended by a tall, battle-scarred Olog-Hai.</p><p>The people entering and leaving the city didn't even look twice at them as they entered through the outermost gates, their Ranger gear apparently enough to grant them safe passage. Not too far beyond the gates, they found an inn and tavern that the Rangers seemed to frequent. There were some within, a pair rolling dice on a table in a corner with another Man, an Uruk-Hai, and a pair of dwarves.</p><p>The owner of the inn was a female Uruk-Hai, of all things. Until that moment, neither of them had been aware that there <em>were</em> female Uruk-Hai. Her voice was only a little higher than that of the males, but other than that, there was no difference visible on the surface; the only reason they knew she was female at all was overhearing one of the others refer to her as such. Aragorn paid for their room, and as she handed them their key, she grunted, “If you're new in town, watch out for the drakes up top. The eggs’re hatching right now, so the mothers are quite a bit territorial - not fans of strangers poking around.”</p><p>“Will do,” Aragorn replied, and led the way up to their room. There were two beds within, and a pipe across one wall that carried warmth up from the fire in the hearth in the main room. It was simple, but clean and comfortable. </p><p>The king set his pack down, then sat heavy on the bed, which barely shivered under his weight - strong and well made. “Of all the things I expected to find when we arrived, this is <em>not</em> it, and I suspect more surprises await elsewhere within.”</p><p>“Agreed,” said Dirhael. He looked more than a little stunned, too. “I never even <em>imagined</em>… Do you think there’s something to it? Some fell magic that binds everyone under this new Lord of Mordor like Sauron before him?”</p><p>“I do not believe so.” Their room had a window that looked out over the city, and Aragorn walked over to peer through the glass. “There are Elves here as well, and if there were some dark art behind it, they would know at once and oppose it. And dwarves are notoriously difficult to master - the Seven Rings that Sauron gave them did not make them slaves of the Dark Lord like the Nine, only increased their lust for gold and what they would do to get it.”</p><p>Dirhael hummed and joined him at the window, then pointed. “It looks like there is a market not far from here. Should we see what news we can gather?”</p><p>So they did. Despite the obvious differences, here at least Minas Morgul was a normal city. Traders hawked their wares, and people moved through the stalls to make their purchases, keeping a sharp eye for would-be thieves. Yet both the sellers and the purchasers were as varied as their wares; here was an Olog selling vegetables and even fruit, the next stall over a dwarven hunter with fresh meat, and there a woman with clothing, and there another dwarf with his Uruk-Hai partner sharpening the knives and other tools laid out on their stall. There were also Easterlings with fine cloth and delicate porcelain, and Haradrim from the south with dyes and spices. There was even a stall of books and scrolls.</p><p>It was there that Aragorn finally stopped to leaf through some of the documents. Most were old, perhaps recovered from whatever had been done with Minas Morgul’s library, but there were a few that seemed to have come from the east or south, and recently. “Looking for anything in particular?” the seller asked. He was a Man of Northern descent, going by the dark hair and eyes.</p><p>“Any stories about the Gravewalker?” Aragorn asked, pausing on an ancient map of Beleriand, eyebrows climbing. The map was very accurate, actually, but it seemed to have been made by Men rather than Elves. There were parts that were just forest or blank that the Elves would have known well and signaled the location of, though not necessarily the specifics in case the map fell into enemy hands.</p><p>The seller snorted. “I <em>wish</em>,” he answered, “I’d have to make a great many copies of it, ‘cause I’d be sold out in a heartbeat. Swinsere sings the song he wrote if enough people ask and the bards all know it too, but he’s not here very often as of late to do it himself. With all the reconstruction, he and the others and the Boss are always busy.”</p><p>“True enough,” the king answered, inclining his head, “It’s the same in Gondor, and to the north as well. Sauron hit Dale and Erebor hard, too.”</p><p>“You been up that way?”</p><p>“Once or twice. Not recently, though, but enough news has come down that I gathered what’s happened.”</p><p>“You might wanna talk to Idril, then - while she’s here, at least.” He jerked his chin towards the tower looming over the city. “She likes to know what’s going on outside the borders, and passes it on to the Boss and the Queen of the Shore, too.”</p><p>“We’ll do that, thank you.”</p><p>They parted ways soon after. “The Queen of the Shore?” Dirhael murmured.</p><p>“There was of old a kingdom of Men on the shores of the Sea of Núrnen,” Aragorn answered, “It was established after the War of the Last Alliance, by Men of Rhovanion, I believe. It <em>must </em>have been conquered by Sauron when he returned to Mordor, but it seems that enough people remained to now reestablish it. If they are sharing information, it seems that they are allies of the Lord of Mordor - or at least, not his enemies.”</p><p>The younger man hummed.</p><p>“You are concerned?”</p><p>“I merely worry what will happen if this new Lord decides to go the way of Sauron. He certainly seems to have allies enough.” He gestured to the market and all its people.</p><p>“I cannot imagine that too many of them will stand with him if he does,” Aragorn replied, “The Uruks and Ologs, perhaps, and the Easterlings and Haradrim if he forced them to submit as Sauron did, but the Men of Gondor? The Rangers? The People of the Shore? The Elves and dwarves? And so soon after such a ruinous war as Sauron waged on us all?”</p><p>Dirhael sighed. “You are right. I merely…” He looked around to the mix of people, then said quietly, “My father was slain by Uruks when the Black Gate fell, and neither my mother nor I have ever forgiven or forgotten - and now <em>this</em>, so close to our borders. And there are Gondorians here who seem not to care that so many have died at their hands.”</p><p>“Our hearts grieve as one - mine own father also died at the hands of Sauron’s servants,” said Aragorn, “and perhaps that is what they see. That Sauron was the source of the evil that drove them, and it is against him that they turned their wrath, rather than on those who may very well be innocent.”</p><p>The younger man snorted at that. “Forgive me, but it’s hard indeed to imagine an <em>orc</em> as <em>innocent</em>.”</p><p>“In that we are in agreement also.”</p><hr/><p>They made their way through the city to the tower, hearing snatches of news along the way. As king of Gondor, Aragorn heard much more from other lands quicker and more accurate than many; perhaps they could exchange some of their own news for that of Mordor and her new Lord.</p><p>What had once been parkland around the tower now held the fire drakes. Most were about the size of Fellbeasts, some smaller, some larger, with infant drakes the size of dogs staying close to the nests, their mothers hissing at any people save a few who drew too near. All of the young ones already wore small harnesses sized for them, doubtless so they wouldn't have to go through the trouble of actually breaking them into the saddle. Now <em>that</em> would have been a difficult undertaking indeed.</p><p>The tower itself still stood fast and strong, but the inside had not yet been restored. The fine tile underfoot was missing in some places and cracked and scuffed in more, and no art adorned the walls. Anything precious had been stripped long ago by the forces of Sauron who took the city, be it jewels or crystals, or even just gold leaf on a banister. Regardless, the Tower of the Rising Moon was still something to behold. <em>“I am still here,”</em> she seemed to say, <em>“Sauron tried to break me down, but he failed. Here I stand, and my people with me.”</em></p><p>There were more Men and orcs here as well, and Aragorn glimpsed a few Elves as well, though now that he was closer, he could see that they were not like the ones he had known. These were more - <em>down to Earth</em>, seeming closer to Men than their high kin. That intrigued him; who <em>were</em> these strange Elves, and from where had they come? They seemed more like the Sylvan Elves of Eryn Lasgalen than the Ñoldorin Elves of Rivendell and Lothlórien, or even the Sindar who were Legolas’s kindred.</p><p>Idril was a noblewoman of Gondor, Aragorn could see it at once. The blood of Númenor ran strong in her, but she carried herself as a soldier first and foremost. With a pair of wicked scars, one across her forehead, the other along her jaw, she certainly looked the part, though she did not look to be that much older than Dirhael. They exchanged greetings, and though Idril thoroughly eyed Dirhael in suspicion upon learning his name, she said nothing in askance, only “What news from the outside?”</p><p>They told her much of the goings on of the world beyond the Mountains of Shadow, but she was most interested in the news of the Elves. “Lady Galadriel has sailed? Eltariel will be disappointed to hear that; she had hoped to return to Lothlórien in time to depart with her. We will tell her, assuming we manage to find her - and assuming she’s not dead.”</p><p>“Eltariel?” Aragorn repeated, “I can’t say I’ve met her yet.”</p><p>“You <em>are </em>new then, aren't you? Even so, that doesn't surprise me,” said Idril, pouring her elegant scrawl over some parchment, “She is a Blade of Galadriel, or <em>was</em> at any rate, and she works alone more often than not. Still, we are pleased to call her a friend.”</p><p>The king’s eyebrows climbed. “A <em>Blade </em>of <em>Galadriel</em>? I can’t say I’ve heard of the Lady of Lothlórien having any use for assassins.”</p><p>“Eltariel came to Mordor when I was young,” the woman replied, “I understand Galadriel sent her in an attempt to combat the growing strength of the Nazgûl, though what she expected a single Blade to do against the Nine, I’ve no idea.”</p><p>That was fair. Both Aragorn and Dirhael tilted their heads in acknowledgement.</p><p>“What about the new king of Gondor? <em>Ada</em> said he saw his standard at the Black Gate. What can you tell me about him?”</p><p>“What would you like to know?”</p><p>“Is he a man of honor? Can he be trusted to make terms and hold to them?”</p><p>“I would like to think so,” Aragorn answered, “but I doubt there are many who want to think ill of the man so soon after his ascension. We haven’t yet had time to see how he will lead us.”</p><p>“Fair,” said Idril, “The others have said much the same. Perhaps in time there will be true peace between Mordor and Gondor and the rest of the West, but there is much work to be done first.”</p><p>“You intend a treaty with the West someday?”</p><p>“Of course. <em>Ada</em> is many things, but he is not Sauron. Now that his mind is his own again, he has no wish to remake the world in his own image, only to ensure peace and prosperity for his people.”</p><hr/><p>Aragorn and Dirhael stayed three days in Minas Morgul, but Talion never returned to the city. They heard that there was trouble to the north and east; now that Sauron was no longer controlling Mordor’s weather, the winter had fallen heavy on Seregost, dumping snow and ice on the province in enormous amounts. Now the warmth of spring was melting it, flooding the lowlands, and sending it pouring out of the mountains in dangerously fast rivers. Gorgoroth was a desolation now, but there was dry-land farming in Lithlad even further east that was being greatly upset by the sudden outpouring of water. On their second day in Minas Morgul, all the male drakes and their riders departed to give aid where they could, along with a few females who had not bred - or at least not successfully.</p><p>Aragorn picked out a few things from the market to take home, and they also stopped at the homestead of the Olog-Hai to purchase some of his honey. It was there that they learned that he had once been one of Talion’s warchiefs, above the captains but below the Overlord of Núrn, and that he had retired some time ago to keep his bees. “Most orcs like the sweetness,” said Az-Bror, “Under Sauron, all was hell. Perhaps not as much for us than for you, but we never got anything like this. Now, under the Wind-Rider, we are free to enjoy many things.”</p><p>Dirhael was silent most of the way back to Minas Tirith and bade Aragorn farewell at the gates, which made the king raise his eyebrows. “You don’t wish to come up to the palace?”</p><p>“I should return to the house, and my mother and grandfather,” he answered, then went a little red and yet also a little pale, “Captain Faramir came to me so quickly that I didn't have time to tell anyone where I was going. Not my mother, at least.”</p><p>“<em>Ah</em>,” said Aragorn in sudden understanding, “Then I wish you the best of luck avoiding her wrath. Perhaps your own gifts will go a little way to that end.”</p><p>“That is why I bought them, my lord.” </p><p>Dirhael bowed and departed, and Aragorn climbed the rest of the way to the palace, where Arwen was waiting for him even though he’d sent no word ahead that they were returning. She smiled at the sight of him and opened her own arms to return his embrace on the palace steps. Then he handed her the jar of honey. Her smile widened at that; like her father before her, she and her brothers very much had sweet tooths. “And where did you get this?”</p><p>“From an Olog-Hai keeping bees in the foothills of the Ephel Dúath.”</p><p>She blinked sharply, eyebrows shooting up. “An <em>Olog-Hai</em>? Keeping <em>bees</em>?”</p><p>He nodded.</p><p>After a moment, she said, “<em>Well</em>, it seems like you have <em>quite </em>the tale to tell.”</p><p>When Faramir, Legolas, and Gimli joined them, Aragorn told them what he had seen and heard. By the end of it, all of them were nearly silent in surprise. At last, Faramir said, “Idril of Minas Morgul. If this is the Idril I think it is, then she is a distant cousin of mine; all the noble houses of Gondor are interrelated. Idril, daughter of Castamir of House Rían, thought lost along with countless others with the fall of Minas Ithil. I wonder how many others have survived these long years.”</p><p>“Do you think she was telling the truth?” Legolas asked, “That Talion intends to make peace with the West?”</p><p>“I do. Or at least, I do not see a reason for her to <em>lie</em>.”</p><p>Arwen nodded in agreement. “But there’s something else we’ve learned from this. There was trouble in ‘Seregost’, you said, and the Ninth was out there helping and called others to join him. He <em>cares </em>for his people, or at least is willing to put forth the effort to make it appear as if he does. I think that makes a difference, don’t you?”</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Three: Strategic Feint</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>IT'S DONE so here's everything all at once bc I am the most impatient hoe in history</p>
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    <h1>Three: Strategic Feint</h1><hr/><p>The Nazgûl of Minas Morgul slipped their minds for a time. There was still much work to be done to restore Gondor, and deciding exactly when and where and who and how consumed their waking hours. Gimli and some other dwarves worked in the largest of Minas Tirith’s forges for many days, creating new gates for the city in steel and <em>mithril</em>. Aragorn, Arwen, and Faramir had their own labors, reviewing what the Stewards had done both for and to Gondor before the return of the king, as well as even older laws and rulings from the days of Anárion and his heirs. Then there were more recent dealings, messages of trade and alliance from lords and petty kings all over the West, issues internal to the city like disputes between guilds and noble houses, the handling of all the soldiers and city guards.</p><p>In truth, they needed a fourth person to help them handle it all, and Aragorn thought longingly of Boromir, now gone. The soldiers had loved their captain dearly, and the king knew he could have put their care and management safely in his capable hands.</p><p>But it was Legolas who had the Ninth often on his thoughts, working in Ithilien as he was, and it was he who brought him back to the others’ attention. “I have been thinking of ways we might approach this Lord of Mordor,” he said when he returned to the city near the first anniversary of Aragorn’s accession, “especially since I have heard that there are some who wish to begin resettling Ithilien. Some of his people live there, and I do not think it wise to let the first reunion between East and West be a family of farmers stumbling upon Az-Bror and his bees.”</p><p>“Southern Ithilien and the northernmost regions of South Gondor beyond are still empty as well, for the most part,” said Aragorn, “Have them begin settling there, and I will send soldiers to secure the land ahead of them. But you are right, <em>mellon nín</em>. We cannot just let this lie and hope it resolves itself; we <em>must </em>find a solution. Have the people of Minas Morgul showed any signs of spreading further into Ithilien?”</p><p>“Not that I have seen,” the Elf answered, “I took the opportunity to scout the area as thoroughly as I could; beyond the Morgul Vale, there are only those few homesteads.”</p><p>“And what about <em>within </em>Mordor? Do we know anything about the people living <em>there</em>, or is it all just as obscure as it was under Sauron? I suppose I could use the Palantír to find out, but I am unsure if the Nazgûl will know I am looking.”</p><p>“There is no need for that, my friend,” said Legolas, “for that same question troubled me, and I sought answers. No one has tried to pass through what remains of the Black Gate; the land there is still ruined from when it collapsed with the fall of the Dark Tower, and Gorgoroth is almost completely uninhabited and will likely remain so for some time. It is even more desolate than you have heard. The people use the Morgul Pass and even the Stair of Cirith Ungol to enter and leave Mordor itself, and I followed some of them through. There is a fortress where the pass is narrowest, but as it is <em>now</em>, it seems more to guard the way <em>out</em> of Mordor, rather than the way <em>in</em>.”</p><p>That intrigued the king; perhaps the young Rangers had been right in saying that Talion had been defending the West. He signaled for the Elf to continue.</p><p>“The fortress sits high in the mountains, and a road of sorts leads down out of the Ephel Dúath,” he went on, “From there it splits, with one path that goes north towards the Black Gate, the other south and east toward the Gap of Núrn, but I did not follow it that far.</p><p>“As for the people living within, there were homesteads in the mountains near steady rivers and streams, and at least three new and growing towns in the lowest foothills, but once I passed into Gorgoroth, there was nothing save travellers on the road for as far as my eyes could see.”</p><p>Which was very far indeed.</p><p>“Do you think we could get away with scouting into Mordor?” Aragorn asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “Minas Morgul is quite large in terms of people, but the Morgul Vale itself is <em>very</em> small compared to the whole of Mordor. There is only so much we can learn from observing there, and there is more I would like to know before we approach the Lord. What is life like elsewhere in Mordor, for all her inhabitants? How does he treat his people? Are there still orcs who - prefer Sauron’s way of doing things, so to speak? What does he do about <em>them</em>? What of the Queendom of the Shore? Are there orcs there as well, or does the Queen only count Men as her subjects, and the orcs are under this ‘Overlord of Núrn’? Do the Men and orcs live apart from each other and the Elves and the dwarves in that land? If so, is that unique to the Queendom, or is that true everywhere? There were Easterling traders in Minas Morgul - does the Lord have alliances with them that permit them to travel through Mordor itself to reach the city, or must they go around to the south and come up the Harad Road? What about the Haradrim themselves? That and much more - <em>so</em> many questions, and I am not entirely sure if we can just go and ask and expect the truth.”</p><p>“You wish to see with your own eyes, which are less likely to deceive you,” said Legolas.</p><p>“Indeed. But I doubt the Rangers of Ithilien go very far into Mordor, so I am unsure how we might make such a journey <em>and</em> conceal that we are doing so.”</p><p>“You will require horses, at least,” said Faramir as he entered the king’s study, “It would not do to waste time walking that could be better used gathering information. <em>Are</em> there horses in Mordor?”</p><p>“I saw some,” the Elf answered, “but the greatest difficulty would be finding supplies for them in Gorgoroth, I think. You would have to carry most everything with you through to Núrn.”</p><p>The Steward nodded and set another armful of letters down on the king’s desk, earning a quiet groan that made Legolas grin. “Speed would be of the essence for other reasons, as well,” said the Man, “The kingdom still needs you; if you went, you couldn't linger long.”</p><p>Now Aragorn rubbed his forehead. “Words cannot express how tempted I am to just <em>go</em>.”</p><p>“I know, sire.”</p><hr/><p>The first anniversary of his accession was even more raucous than the accession itself had been, to the Ranger’s trained eye. Perhaps because of the lack of a recently-ended war with Mordor and all the horrors that came with it, but Minas Tirith was now alive with song and celebration, which spread out onto the fields around the city itself. He had no doubt that there were other celebrations elsewhere in Gondor, but thinking of that made his eyes turn to Ithilien and the Morgul Vale, hidden beyond the horizon from even the very heights of Minas Tirith.</p><p>By rights Minas Morgul and the western end of the Morgul Vale belonged to Gondor, but he was not the kind of man - or the kind of king - who would uproot an entire city just because he had a legitimate claim to the land. But the rest of Ithilien was his in truth, and very soon people would want to return, to build lives both new and anew. That would push them into contact and potentially conflict with the people of Minas Morgul and Mordor beyond.</p><p>No one needed another war. Not now.</p><p>But that meant negotiating with Mordor, or settling trustworthy people near the Morgul Vale. Perhaps both.</p><p>Still, before reaching out, he wanted to know what kind of Man the Ninth was. He’d seen Minas Morgul and the changes worked there since the fall of Sauron - now he wanted to see the rest of Mordor, and the Man himself. He supposed he could have pressed some of the older Rangers for the truth, but he had no wish to <em>force </em>them to reveal these secrets long held.</p><p>“There might be a way to get time in Mordor, although it will take awhile to come to fruition.”</p><p>Aragorn nearly jumped off the same ledge that Denethor had thrown himself from, then let out a long and hopefully calming breath and turned to face his wife. She was smiling gently, but her eyes glinted with mischief. Though he smiled back, he didn't give her the satisfaction of acknowledging that she had sneaked up on him <em>yet again</em>. “And how is that, my love?”</p><p>“A royal progress, of sorts,” she answered, “There are things we cannot know about our people merely from reports of other regions, since there are lords and governors who listen more closely to the clink of coin than the needs of the common folk. An excuse to eventually circle around to Mordor, perhaps, and it would have to be done in secret to get the full truth rather than an illusion put forward by those with the most to gain, but it would be useful to walk the land and hear what the people have to say - and also get the measure of the more distant lords.”</p><p>Aragorn looked at her in awe. “Every time I think I have your own measure, you surprise me yet again, my love,” he said, “I am humbled by your wisdom.”</p><p>“A good plan indeed,” said Faramir when they told him, “but there is the matter of when you will go, in what guise, and who will go with you, to say nothing of supplies and the route you will take.”</p><p>“The young soldier who went with me to Minas Morgul, Dirhael - he would be a good choice,” said Aragorn, “We never had cause to draw our swords so I am unsure of exactly how well he can fight, but I know you would not have sent him if he couldn’t hold his own. He seemed to have a good head on his shoulders as well, and was discreet.”</p><p>“Perhaps traders seeking new markets, or people going on their behalf?” Arwen suggested, “As good an excuse as any to travel far and ask questions, gather news.”</p><p>Again, Aragorn found himself gazing at her in admiration, Faramir alongside him, even as a slight frown creased her brow. “But there are other considerations,” she went on, “Two trained Men would be safest on the road in Mordor, perhaps, but what kind of image would that present? People might be hesitant to talk with you for many reasons. Perhaps we should both go in the guise of a family just starting out.”</p><p>“Do you need to get out of the city, my love?”</p><p>“Perhaps a little. You miss wandering the wilds, and I miss walking the forests. Minas Tirith is a magnificent city of Men, but the gardens are too few for my tastes.”</p><p>“A herbalist,” Faramir said suddenly, “or a traveling apothecary, with the supplies to match. ‘The hands of the king are the hands of a healer,’ and such a thing would earn you the trust of the people swifter than anything else, especially if something happened while you were there to let you prove it.”</p><p>“I need never fear that my leadership will go astray with such wise advisors around me.”</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Four: Watch the Skies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Four: Watch the Skies</h1><hr/><p>They began planning, slowly, carefully. There was still much work to be done in Gondor, but gradually it decreased in urgency until Faramir was able to handle it on his own.</p><p>Aragorn, Arwen, and Dirhael went first to western Gondor, following the road along the Ered Nimrais in the north. They posed as a married couple, which was easy enough, since they were. Dirhael was Aragorn’s sister-son, since he was too old to be their own child. A soldier of Minas Tirith, he was taking time away from the city with his “uncle”, to breathe fresh air and see for the first time the length and breadth of the land he’d fought to protect during the War of the Ring.</p><p>Not very far off the mark.</p><p>When they reached the River Lefnui, first of the Seven Rivers of Gondor, they followed it down to the coast. Beyond Lefnui to the land of Andrast, also known as Ras Morthil, was in name Gondor’s, but the territory was largely inhabited by the Drúedain, a kindred race of men. Aragorn had decided against disturbing them even before departing Minas Tirith. Instead, they came to the sea and followed the coastal road back east, still helping and listening as they had in the north, and occasionally branching off if they heard there was need of aid.</p><p>After more than a month on the road, they came at last to the great port of Pelargir and chartered passage on a ship up the river to Osgiliath and Minas Tirith beyond. They had learned much on their travels, and seen more than a few places that would be good for settlements with a little work.</p><p>Faramir had handled the city and the country beyond ably in their absence, but even so decisions reserved for the king alone had built up. Gimli and his fellows had finished the new gates for the city, and it was with great ceremony that they were at last installed. Repairs from the War of the Ring were finally finished, which warranted its own celebration according to the populace, separate from that for the gates. </p><p>Aragorn rolled his eyes but allowed it, and took advantage of the opportunity to circulate amongst the people, to be seen after his previous absence - and before the one soon to come. The trip through Mordor would likely be even longer than the one through western Gondor, so that they could learn all they needed to know to satisfy them before they treated with Mordor.</p><p>They waited until the city settled to set off again, this time for Mordor. Aragorn had no wish to be caught in Mordor when the first snows came; no one in Gondor knew if the Morgul Pass would be closed, and he had no wish to try the Pass of Cirith Ungol, though Talion’s people reportedly used some tunnels without fear. Sam had said that he had stabbed Shelob with Sting, but he hadn't known if it had killed her and Aragorn was not precisely <em>eager </em>to find out if it had not.</p><p>This time they stayed in Minas Morgul only a day, and not at the same inn as before so as to avoid being recognized. This one was run by Men, a man and his wife, both of them former slaves of the Dark Lord, and it was not as busy as the ones nearer the main gate, tucked away in the middle city and being smaller and more comfortable for it.</p><p>They set off in the morning, following the Morgul Road through its pass, winding only slightly between the peaks as it rose. The air thinned but was still breathable, and the clouds fell away below them but the path held steady, some of it new but already well-worn by much travel.</p><p>Arwen saw the fortress from some way off, and they reached it just past midday. As Legolas had said, it did indeed seem to guard the way <em>out</em> of Mordor, rather than the way <em>in</em>, though that route was far from <em>undefended</em>. “Perhaps they rely on Minas Morgul to guard from the west,” Dirhael murmured as they rode in through the gates, “That makes the most sense, at least to me.”</p><p>“Agreed.”</p><p>The fortress straddled the road almost like the Black Gate and the Towers of the Teeth, now destroyed. Its two towers were still being built, overlooking the pass and rising from two rough stone keeps, one on either side of the road with strong walls connecting them. A town of sorts had grown up in the large courtyard between the walls, other buildings constructed in their embrace though the road through remained clear.</p><p>It was quiet, save for the roll of distant thunder, and there were few people to be seen. </p><p>And then they passed through the second gate and found where everyone had gone. They were all gathered on the slopes looking into Mordor, talking and sharing food and drink - and watching. The Men and Elf followed their gaze - and stopped.</p><p>The remainder of the Mountains of Shadow lay before them, many days of travel in their descent to the Plateau of Gorgoroth beyond. The Mithram Spur of the Ered Lithui was only the smallest smudge on the horizon to the north and east, but a wide storm of dark, heavy clouds lay in a thick swirl over the distant mountains and the lands around them, blocking the light of the sun so thoroughly that it seemed almost night in their shadow. It looked like one of the massive spiral storms known as <em>hurricanes</em> that came from the south off the Belegaer in late summer. Poison green lightning darted through the clouds, and there were flashes of light below, fiery red-orange and that same poison green - a battle of sorcery, the clash causing much of the thunder they heard. Even at the Morgul Pass, so far in the distance, the air felt charged with power and unnaturally heavy. </p><p>Aragorn guided his horse over to the nearest person, an orc leaning back on his hands and just watching the distant battle. “What’s happening?”</p><p>“Tar Goroth,” the orc answered, “The Boss and Carnán’re puttin’ ‘im down.”</p><p>“And who is Tar Goroth?”</p><p>That made the orc look up at him. “Not from ‘ere, huh?”</p><p>“No, but thinking of settling if it’s permitted.”</p><p>The orc chuckled, then said, “Tar Goroth’s a Balrog. The Boss and Carnán froze him in a lake near Seregost ‘bout - mm, sixty years ago now? Somewhere ‘round there. But the lake’s been meltin’ ‘cause’a the summer heat, and <em>he’s </em>been wakin’ up. They're tryin’ to put ‘im down for good this time.”</p><p>The flashes intensified in the distance, and after a few moments the faint echoes of a Nazgûl’s scream reached them.</p><p>“Kill ‘im, Boss!” the orc called as if Talion could hear him.</p><p>“Make him <em>bleed!</em>”</p><p>“Show that <em>shrakh</em> why you’re Lord of Mordor!”</p><p>A bolt of green lightning lanced down out of the clouds on Gorgoroth and put a crater the size of Minas Tirith in the plateau, the slopes of it glowing red-hot, visible even from the Pass.</p><p>“I think we should wait awhile,” said Aragorn.</p><p>“That would probably be best,” Arwen agreed, already turning her horse back around.</p><p>“Better luck next time!” the orc called after them.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Five: Enough Dead Heroes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Five: Enough Dead Heroes</h1><hr/><p>They returned to Minas Morgul just as the sunset was turning the city to gold. She looked almost like Minas Ithil again, the Witch-King’s <em>additions</em> changed or stripped away entirely, and her repairs too were almost complete, activity in her streets beginning to fade with the sunlight.</p><p>It was Arwen who spotted him first, her Elven sight better than that of an eagle. She paused for only a moment, then spurred her horse forward to take the lead, which Aragorn yielded with some confusion but no complaint. Dirhael frowned but followed.</p><p>The Elf led them straight to the upper city, to the Tower of the Rising Moon itself, and they left their horses near its gates, still following her quick strides through to the part of the bridge that overlooked the parkland that yet remained, serving as a training grounds for the keep’s soldiers.</p><p>But there she halted, and so did they.</p><p>Aragorn followed her gaze - and then swore that his heart stopped in his chest.</p><p>
  <em>It couldn't be.</em>
</p><p>The Man was thinner than he recalled, made obvious by his bare chest dripping with sweat, and his hair was longer and held back from his face by a strip of leather. He was sparring with a woman lightly clad in a linen tunic and trousers, their swords meeting with clangs and occasional sparks.</p><p>Aragorn slowly descended the steps leading down to the parkland and approached. It took him several moments to find his voice, and when he finally did, it shook and broke as if he was still a child. “<em>Boromir?!</em>”</p><p>The warriors stopped, and the Man turned.</p><p>It <em>was</em> Boromir, looking much the same as when Aragorn had seen him last. He blinked in surprise, but then a grin started pulling his lips wide.</p><p>A moment later they were embracing one another, despite the sharp sword in the other Man’s hand. This was no illusion or trickery; there was warm, living flesh under his hands, and Aragorn felt nearer to weeping than he had been in some time - since the other Man’s apparent death. Yet there was something he had to say. “I am known as Strider right now,” he whispered in the Man’s ear, “and we are here in secret.”</p><p>There was the slightest nod against his cheek before Boromir pulled back to look at him. “Strider, my friend,” he said, and the king felt a few tears fall at the familiar voice, “it is <em>good </em>to see you. And you as well, Dirhael; I see you up there!”</p><p>It seemed that Aragorn blinked and the younger man was at their side, looking just as joyful as the older Man felt. “Captain Boromir! You’re alive!”</p><p>Boromir laughed, even as Arwen came to join them last of all. “So I am,” he replied, “though I understand it was a near thing.”</p><p>His sparring partner sheathed her sword, and he introduced her as Angreth, daughter of Idril and Baranor, before bidding her farewell and leading them inside the tower. When they reached his rooms - small, but comfortable and well-appointed - and closed the door behind them, Boromir went to his knees. “My king, my queen,” he whispered, head bowed.</p><p>“Rise, my friend,” said Aragorn, trying to hide how his hands were shaking with the desire to hold him close and never let him go, “and please, I beg you, tell us how this miracle came to be.”</p><p>“I only know what I have been told for most of it,” the Man answered, gesturing for them to seat themselves where they would. He himself sat on a simple stool, hands planted on his thighs, and continued, “I understand that you sent me over the Falls of Rauros in one of the boats we were given in Lórien?” When Aragorn nodded, he said, “The Elven magic in their making must have been great indeed, for it did not capsize in the fall. Instead it continued along the Anduin and finally ran aground in Ithilien, near a camp of Rangers allied with these people and their lord. There were Elves among them, and they found me and preserved my body by some art of theirs, perhaps thinking to deliver me to the White City to be laid to rest there when the fighting was done. I do not know for sure what they would have done, for their lord returned with the fall of the Dark Tower. I was dead in truth, but then he called me back.</p><p>“I saw him only that one time, leaning over me right after reviving me, a Man in dark robes and armor, eyes glowing like fire. And then…” He shook his head. “Time passed. I slept long and recovered slowly, for although I had been restored to life, I was still gravely wounded. I am told that poison and fever and infection almost took me more times than I have fingers to count, but even so I came back.</p><p>“When I finally woke fully, I was thin and weak, even though the healers cared well for me. I doubt even you would have recognized me. It took months to regain even just the strength to <em>walk</em>… and here I am now.”</p><p>“A necromancer,” Arwen said softly, “The Rangers of Ithilien named him as such, and we are all glad indeed to have you back, but I never would have imagined <em>this</em> - restoring true life to dead flesh. We knew he was strong because he has slain at least a <em>few </em>of the surviving Ringwraiths, but <em>this</em> kind of power… I do not know what to think.”</p><p>“If he marches against Gondor, we are doomed,” Dirhael said grimly.</p><p>“I still have hope that he will not,” said Aragorn, “but even so, the sooner there is a treaty, the better.”</p><hr/><p>Boromir arranged for them to have rooms in the tower itself, rather than let them return to the inn, and he too was alarmed when he heard of the mage-battle taking place in Seregost. “I have seen no sign that these people mean Gondor any ill will, but it is as you say; there <em>are</em> still those who prefer ‘Sauron’s way of doing things,’” he told them, “Minas Morgul herself has never come under assault, but there’s still fighting in Mordor - or so I’ve heard. One of the benefits of living in the tower; I hear news from all over.”</p><p>Idril returned two days later, with the news that the Balrog Tar Goroth had been killed once and for all. The streets erupted in song and celebration, and Aragorn, Dirhael, Arwen, and Boromir used that chance to slip out of the city - though not without saying farewell. Idril just smiled sadly and shook her head, then embraced Boromir. “Dirhael will be upset that he didn’t get to say goodbye.”</p><p>That made the others look at her in confusion, brows raised, but the Gondorian captain just waved a hand. “I will still be close by - practically next door. He is welcome to come see me any time, and Angreth as well.”</p><p>“<em>Dirhael</em>?” Dirhael repeated, unable to keep silent, “Your son’s name is <em>Dirhael</em>?”</p><p>“Indeed,” Idril replied with a grin, “I named him after my father’s son, now long dead. Imagine my surprise when I learned he wasn’t the only one with that name.”</p><p>The Man hummed but said nothing more, only frowned deeply. It was Arwen who said, “<em>Your father’s son</em>, not <em>your brother</em>?”</p><p>“Though I call him ‘father’ and he calls me ‘daughter’, <em>Ada</em> and I are not related by blood. Both of us lost our families to the dark tide of Mordor while Sauron yet ruled.” She frowned. “My blood father was a traitor who sold Minas Ithil to the Witch-king in an attempt to spare my life. As such, I only claim kinship to him when absolutely necessary.”</p><p>Dirhael winced at that, and so did Boromir. Aragorn knew the direction the latter’s thoughts had gone - Frodo and the Ring - and reached out to squeeze his shoulder even as Arwen did the same on his other side. “We should be on our way,” he said gently, “We have no wish to impose on you for another night - is it <em>Lady</em> or <em>Captain </em>Idril?”</p><p>She raised a brow. “<em>‘Lady’</em>?”</p><p>“By blood or no, you <em>are </em>the daughter of the Lord of Mordor, are you not?”</p><p>That made her laugh a little. “True enough. But I am <em>Captain</em> before <em>Lady</em>.”</p><p>“Captain Idril, then. We’ve no wish to impose on you unduly, and I’m sure Captain Boromir is eager to return home to the White City.”</p><p>“I am indeed,” he said, distinctly brightening at the thought of returning to walk the streets of Minas Tirith.</p><p>She laughed again and waved a hand. “Away with you then,” she said, “<em>Pruzah wundunne</em> - safe travels.”</p><hr/><p>Aragorn and Dirhael’s horses were ordinary ones, bred at the hands of Men, but Arwen rode Asfaloth, an Elven horse with strength and speed beyond that of even the finest horses of Rohan. As such, she and Boromir were able to ride double on his back and still maintain a pace that let them reach the White City in late afternoon the same day that they departed from Minas Morgul.</p><p>The moment they passed through the gates, the whispers started.</p><p>
  <em>“Is that-?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No, can’t be. He’s dead!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“But he looks just like Captain Boromir!”</em>
</p><p>The Man himself did not seem to hear it, eyes locked on the palace high overhead, where Aragorn had said his brother waited for them. The king repeated to him the words of Gandalf concerning the death of Denethor, so he was eager to see the family that remained.</p><p>Faramir must have been close when they finally made it up the switchbacks of the city streets, for he emerged from the palace and frowned at the sight of them home so soon after they had departed. He opened his mouth to speak - and Aragorn knew the instant he spotted his brother, because his mouth dropped open the rest of the way, eyes round as the moon.</p><p>Boromir accepted Arwen’s help when he swung down from Asfaloth’s back with the smallest wince; his wounds were long healed but still faintly tender, and even though he had been on an Elven saddle on an Elven horse, the smoothest ride imaginable, he had not spent all day in the saddle in more than a year, perhaps two. But he was all smiles when he turned to his brother and opened his arms.</p><p>Faramir nearly flew to him, and almost knocked him off his feet, folding him into an embrace so tight that the king heard both men grunt under the pressure. But Boromir held his brother back just as tight, so Aragorn said nothing.</p><p>It was several long minutes before they parted, time Aragorn used to call for stablehands to see to their horses. Faramir was unashamed of the tears streaming down his cheeks when he finally pulled back to examine his brother’s face. The king did not know what his Steward searched for, but he seemed to find it and a wide smile broke over his face like a wave. “<em>Welcome home, brother.”</em></p><p>“It’s good to <em>be</em> home,” Boromir answered, almost as tearful.</p><p>They entered the palace soon after, but Aragorn already heard the whispers change behind them. <em>“It </em>is<em>! It </em>is<em> Captain Boromir! He’s alive!”</em></p><hr/><p>It was all over the city by sundown, soldiers and civilians alike celebrating the return of one of Gondor’s most beloved captains, but inside the palace a more sober meeting took place.</p><p>“A necromancer in truth,” Faramir murmured, “and yet at the moment I cannot find it in myself to be anything but grateful.”</p><p>“As are we all,” Arwen said, a fond smile on her lips, and Aragorn nodded in assent.</p><p>“I am grateful as well,” said Boromir, “If it had been within my power, I would not have left you. <em>Any</em> of you.”</p><p>“You are returned to us now,” said the king, “and that is what matters. Have you the strength to answer some questions about Mordor, or shall we rest now and talk more in the morning?”</p><p>“No, let us speak while we are already gathered.”</p><p>As Boromir had said before, there were orcs who opposed the new Lord, and sought a return to the old way under Sauron. “I do not know the exact numbers on either side, or even in total, but the orcs’ bloodthirsty natures did not vanish with the Dark Lord,” he said, Dirhael nodding in agreement, “There are many who still fight, against both the new Lord and each other. The Man himself knows the West was greatly weakened by the War of the Ring, and so all ways out of Mordor in this direction are heavily guarded by those he trusts. Further to the east I have no knowledge, but I do not think the Easterlings or the Haradrim in the south were hit nearly so hard as we were by the War.”</p><p>“What about the Queendom of the Shore?” Aragorn asked, “Has any news come from Núrn?”</p><p>Boromir shook his head. “Only that the queen’s name is <em>Lithariel</em>,” he answered, “and like Idril, she is his adopted daughter. He seems to have claimed a great number of people as his children, Men and orcs alike, and perhaps even the Elves and dwarves.”</p><p>The king hummed. “Interesting. <em>Unexpected</em>, but <em>very</em> interesting.” He looked to Arwen. “Perhaps he truly <em>does </em>care for his people.</p><p>“You mentioned the Easterlings and the Haradrim. Are they his allies as they were Sauron’s?”</p><p>Boromir frowned. “I don’t believe so, no,” he said slowly, “They might be <em>allies</em>, in a manner of speaking, but he certainly does not <em>rule</em> them the way Sauron did. He does employ a company of mercenaries, however - the Vanishing Sons. They help keep the peace and guard the eastern border in Lithlad, beyond Seregost. As I understand it, the leader of the band is kin to Idril’s husband, but I’ve not heard much else about them.”</p><p>By then it was late indeed, and the king sent them all away to rest, retiring to his own chambers with his wife. “As with you,” he said as he laid down beside her, “just when I think I have this <em>Talion</em>’s measure, he surprises me. We <em>must</em> see Mordor and her people, and I <em>must</em> meet this Man.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Six: Wrong Side of Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Six: Wrong Side of Heaven</h1><hr/><p>The next day Aragorn made a formal announcement celebrating the return of Boromir from his seeming death and offering his sincerest thanks to those who had tended him during his long recovery. He did not name any names or say that the Gondorian captain had been called back to Arda by one of the blackest arts - and by the hand of a <em>Ringwraith</em> no less - knowing that the people would not react well and choosing instead to let them make up their own stories about his survival and triumphant return.</p><p>Boromir finished his recovery in the White City and returned to duty, Aragorn unhesitatingly putting him back in command of the soldiers. In the past, the Man had never enjoyed the thought of becoming the Steward, sitting on the Throne Below the Throne and pronouncing judgements, but caring for his men - that was another story. There the work came quick and easy, and he led them well.</p><p>Yet by the time everyone and everything settled into their new places, it was too late to even dream of returning to Mordor. Winter was often mild in the lowlands of Gondor, but the Morgul Pass would have long been closed, the snows in the high mountains settling thick and deep over the road. Boromir confirmed that the people of Mordor used the tunnels of Cirith Ungol to travel through the mountains when winter closed in, but Aragorn still had no wish to risk an encounter with Shelob if she was, by chance, not dead.</p><p>Over the winter, Faramir was married at last to Éowyn of Rohan, and was nearly as joyful about that as he had been about his brother’s return. While Éomer and the Rohirrim were staying in the city for the wedding, Aragorn used the opportunity to formally acknowledge the alliance made between Eorl and Cirion nearly six hundred years before. Not that he would have made any other choice; the “Eorlingas”, as they called themselves, were valued allies and great friends of Gondor, and he would no more have turned them out of their land than he would the people of Minas Morgul now.</p><p>Spring came around again, and in truth, it was the best time to try again for Mordor. Much of Gondor was distracted by the spring planting and everything needed to prepare for it, meaning there was less for the king to do. The land was settling at last into a rhythm again, and Aragorn left the country in the capable hands of Boromir and some trusted advisors. This time Faramir was coming with them to Mordor, at least as far as Minas Morgul, together with Éowyn. Aragorn had made him - and Boromir, but mostly him - Prince of Ithilien and returned Emyn Arnen to him as his seat, and so they were also going to see the people who would be living what some would call <em>perilously near</em> to their home.</p><p>Dirhael was waiting for them at the gates as before, but he was a little nervous, and now there was someone else with him. An older woman stood next to a provisioned horse of her own, a small bow and arrows with her pack and a short sword on her hip. She was not young, but neither was she old, her brown hair just starting to gray at the temples, wrinkles just starting to deepen on her forehead and around her eyes.</p><p>Dirhael introduced her as his mother, Ioreth, and she curtseyed, slight but respectful. “I hope it is not an imposition,” she said easily, with the grace of one who knew court protocols and yet also knew they sought to leave the city in stealth, “but I wish to see what has become of the land that killed my husband. Dirhael has told some - <em>interesting stories</em>, about it and its new leader.”</p><p>Aragorn eyed her for a moment. While not quite as hardened as a Ranger, she was not soft like most noblewomen of Gondor, kept in the house and keeping it and the children. She had some experience, even if not as much as a trained soldier. Anyone who encountered them would not expect it. “Let me see your hands.”</p><p>She did not question, only handed her horse’s reins to her son and held out her hands. She had calluses from more than a few years of training with both sword and bow; he recognized the patterns of wear and buildup from his own hands. He nodded in satisfaction and released her, then introduced the rest of the party by the false names they would use on the road. The others returned her greetings, and they left through the city gates.</p><p>Once more, they reached Minas Morgul as evening fell. They had stopped at Az-Bror’s homestead for more honey, and to give Ioreth a taste of what to expect in the city. She did not actually speak to the Olog in question, nor did she need to, but she eyed him and his homestead intently without letting on what she thought.</p><p>The fields in the Morgul Vale were newly planted, same as in Gondor, and the city was celebrating the completion of the task. They stayed the night at yet another inn and observed the festivities, mostly what seemed to be rituals praying for growth and fertility and to keep pests and disease at bay, same as in Gondor. There was activity everywhere, but most of it was around the arena up across from the tower; it seemed there were some mock battles going on within as entertainment, as they could hear the clatter of arms and groans and cheers of the crowd all the way from the lower city.</p><p>Aragorn went to find Ioreth and found her leaning on a low wall overlooking the market. Some of the stalls were still open, sellers hoping to scoop up some more business with the festivities. A fight did break out between two orcs, but an Olog put an end to it by sweeping their heads together and sending them staggering away, dazed.</p><p>“Not what you expected, is it?” the king half-asked her.</p><p>“Perhaps not. But now that I know that all we’ve suffered was at least partially - perhaps even <em>mostly</em> - Sauron driving them on, rather than a natural propensity for such terrible violence, it makes everything seem so… <em>pointless</em>.”</p><p>“All the destruction and death,” he agreed grimly, remembering heaps of bodies buried in mass graves because there simply wasn't time to dig so many individual ones before they started to rot, “Dirhael told me his father was on the Black Gate when it fell.”</p><p>“Yes. We all were, but so far as I know, Dirhael and I are the only ones who got away.”</p><p>“What was he like, your husband?”</p><p>“Talion?” she said with a soft laugh, failing to notice the king stiffen next to her, staring with eyes wide, “He was… different, than a lot of people I met who had similar histories. His father was a cruel man, especially after his wife died, but Talion didn't let that harden him as well. He always tried to be kind. He was training to be a Ranger - ‘to protect the people of Gondor who cannot protect themselves’ - when…” Her hands went tight on the stone wall. “When I was assaulted, and he killed the noble doing it to save me.”</p><p>“And he was banished to the Black Gate for it?” Aragorn managed to keep his voice from coming out strangled, even as he thought, <em>‘Talion. The last captain of the Black Gate. Banished for killing a noble who assaulted his wife. None of us know how he went from Ranger to Ringwraith. I named my son </em>Dirhael <em>after my father’s son.’</em></p><p>“Yes.” Her face was grim. “We thought we would be safe from those who would seek vengeance. And we <em>were</em>, but Mordor has dangers of its own.”</p><p>It didn’t take any great leap of imagination to know what she spoke of. “Sauron returned.”</p><p>“And the garrison fell,” she finished, “Talion sent Dirhael to find me, to keep me safe, and said that he would follow… but he never came. That was the last we saw of him.”</p><p><em>‘They left Mordor, while he went deeper within.’</em> “Was that what made you learn to fight?”</p><p>She looked up and nodded. “I was raised in a noble family, safe, protected, so I gave little thought to the dangers of the world. But after everything that’s happened…” Ioreth shook her head. “Once was chance, perhaps, but <em>twice</em>? Talion nearly died the first time, and <em>did die</em> the second, and I decided that I would not be helpless again, relying on others to defend me. I would stand and fight with my family, and die with them, if that was what it came to.” After a moment, she stepped away. “Good night, Strider.”</p><p>“I apologize if my questions have upset you.”</p><p>She shook her head. “Old wounds, long turned to scars. But we have a long journey ahead of us and while I am far from ancient, I am no longer as young as I once was.”</p><p>He inclined his head, and she departed. He was still standing there when Arwen, Faramir, and Éowyn found him an hour later. He told them what Ioreth had said, but it was Arwen who finally said what they were all thinking. “Well <em>shit</em>.”</p><hr/><p>That night, by the gift of his Númenórean blood, Aragorn dreamed in truth.</p><p><em>He was on the Black Gate before its destruction - before its fall back into Sauron’s hands - watching as two Men trained atop it. No, not just Men - a father and son. The father blocked his son’s swing, sidestepped, and laughed goodnaturedly. “Dirhael, the mighty chicken killer! Come on. </em>Come on.<em> Show your father what you have.”</em></p><p><em>So </em>this <em>was Talion before his fall.</em></p><p>
  <em>Yet even as he thought that, the dream blurred like water, like smoke, and Talion was forced to his knees by one of three Black Númenóreans, each one different from the others but no less terrible. Two other Rangers were similarly bound, one held by the second Númenórean, the third by an orc. All of them were bound not just in body but in mind as well; he could see the threads of fell magic emanating from one of the Númenóreans and stretching out to tangle around the heads of the men.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>An illusion, no doubt; all of them called for someone different as their throats were slit in a ritual killing by the third Númenórean.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Talion called for his wife and son - Ioreth and Dirhael.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The dream changed again around the man, his Ranger armor rippling and becoming black plate edged in gold, his cloak darkening and losing its fringe of fur, smoke around his hand coming together in the shape of a Ring of Power, its red jewel glowing with an evil light.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But now it flickered fitfully, Doom erupting behind the Nazgûl even as he returned from the dark, his throat opening once more and sending black blood pouring down his front. Without Sauron to sustain its power, the Ring was dying, and Talion with it - but then it caught and held on some new unknown source. The wound in his throat closed even as the Man staggered to his feet, stumbling like a newborn colt, but he gathered the power back and-</em>
</p><p><em>-the dream changed once more. Talion was walking with Idril through the streets of Minas Morgul at night, the city still in ruins and glowing with the Witch-king’s corpselight. “The Rangers of Ithilien have asked a boon of us, now that you have returned,” Idril was saying, leading the way through an arch in the wall of the middle city and onto a path that led down the face of a cliff to caverns below the tower. More people joined them, mostly Men - the Rangers in question - but also some Elves, one of whom looked </em>very<em> familiar indeed, though Aragorn could not immediately place him.</em></p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“What is it that you seek?”</em>
  </strong>
  <em> Talion’s voice was still recognizable as the man who had called to his son decades before, but now it was warped by black magic, metallic and hollow.</em>
</p><p><em>They entered the caverns, and there was a brief shimmer of power from the Ringwraith. A secret door opened up in the rock wall, revealing an ancient Elven barrow, ruined but still wrought heavy with magic and filled with treasure. The </em>ithildin<em> door at the back of the chamber opened easily at Talion’s touch - revealing a tomb, a stone coffin at the heart. He walked up next to it, Idril opposite him, and ran his hand over the top of the sarcophagus. </em>Ithildin<em> runes for protection and preservation shimmered under his gauntleted fingers. Then without aid or strain, he lifted off the lid and set it aside.</em></p><p>
  <em>Boromir lay within, pale and still in death, the same as he had been when Aragorn had sent him over the falls. Even his pack and shield were there; only the Horn of Gondor was missing. </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“And who is this?”</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>“Boromir, a Captain of Gondor,” one of the Rangers answered. After a moment, he added, “He is the eldest son of the Steward.”</em>
</p><p><em>Wrath flashed over the Nazgûl’s face, there and gone like lightning. Faramir was right; Talion </em>did<em> dislike the nobility of Gondor. Even so, he did not refuse, only studied the Man for a moment. At last, he said, <strong>“He has not yet gone beyond my reach. What kind of man is he?”</strong></em></p><p>
  <em>“A good one, and much loved.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>After a moment, the Ringwraith let out a noncommittal hum, but he bent over the sarcophagus and spread the hand with the Ring over the Man’s forehead. The jewel glowed, and turned from fiery red to that bright poison green. Twists of mist the same color gathered around Talion and spread down to Boromir’s body, wreathing his form in fell light, and a second cloud formed in the air above the sarcophagus. <strong>“Boromir of Gondor, hear me,”</strong> the Ringwraith said, his voice strangely distant, as if he was not speaking within the walls of Arda, <strong>“Your men are calling for you; they seek their captain. Where have you gone? Will you not return to them?”</strong></em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was silent for a moment, eyes staring blankly into the unseen world. A second image of the Man he was reviving - his spirit, his soul - faded into view within the cloud of mist above the tomb. <strong>“That’s it. Come back.”</strong> He seemed to pluck thoughts and memories from the Man’s mind, for he continued, <strong>“Your brother Faramir looks for your coming from the White Tower, Boromir, and the king has returned to sit the Throne of Gondor. He has need of his finest captain - will you not answer his summons?”</strong></em>
</p><p>
  <em>The mist grew into a thick aura around the Man’s body and soul, the latter of which grew clearer by the moment. <strong>“He can hear you now. Call to him.”</strong></em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Captain Boromir!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Captain, please, come back!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We miss you! Come home!”</em>
</p><p><em>The Man’s soul</em> slammed<em> down into his body, and the aura </em>flared<em>, then vanished. Talion pulled his hand back - just in time, for Boromir’s eyes flew open, and he gasped for breath, then coughed and shuddered. The Rangers cheered, even as the Nazgûl stepped back from the coffin. <strong>“Healers! He’s still wounded!”</strong></em></p><p>
  <em>Elves and Men alike swarmed the sarcophagus, already lifting him out for ease of treatment.</em>
</p><p>The dream blurred again, this time fading entirely, and Aragorn woke to the morning light.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Seven: The Yawning Grave</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Seven: The Yawning Grave</h1><hr/><p>When they were back on the road, the king sent Dirhael ahead to scout, trusting that his mother would want to go with him. She did, and since they were going to be away from cities for some time, Aragorn convinced him to show her a little bushcraft as well. They were still holding to the cover they had previously chosen - healers and apothecaries - which meant that all of them needed to know at least a little about herbs that would be used in their craft. The rest of them used the time to talk.</p><p>“What do we even say to them?” Faramir asked no one in particular, since he and Éowyn had decided to continue with them into Mordor proper and sent news that said as much to the trusted stewards of Emyn Arnen, “‘My sincerest apologies, but Talion did not actually die when you thought he did; instead circumstances conspired to make him a servant of darkness, and not just <em>A</em> servant but one of <em>The</em> Servants - one of the Nine’?”</p><p>“I think between the four of us we can manage a <em>bit</em> more tact than that,” Éowyn said dryly, and Arwen inclined her head in agreement, a faint smile on her lips.</p><p>“But we are all in agreement that we have to say something, ideally <em>before</em> we encounter the Man in question,” said Aragorn.</p><p>“We cannot keep this quiet, my love,” said the Elf, “The truth will come out, likely <em>soon</em>, given we are traveling through his lands, and concealing it will cause more problems than it solves.”</p><p>“Agreed. But then we circle back to Faramir’s question - what do we say?” He rubbed his forehead. “How do we even <em>begin</em> to broach the subject? And what proof do we have that will make them believe us?”</p><p>“As you said of Idril, we have no reason to <em>lie</em>.”</p><p>“But that doesn't mean they will believe.” The king guided his horse around a lingering patch of icy snow blocking part of the path. “I know that if someone came to me and said that my own father had become one of the Nine, I would refuse to accept it unless he himself appeared before me.”</p><p>“Do we even know how it happened?” Éowyn asked. When the others shook their heads, she said, “That isn’t a point in our favor, then.”</p><p>“Indeed not,” Aragorn sighed, “And given what Dirhael has been willing to share, it’s likely Ioreth will be… volatile.”</p><p>“Perhaps,” said Arwen, “but she might surprise us. But that leads us back to what do we say?”</p><p>They debated for some time on the exact wording, though they agreed without words that Aragorn would be the one to do the actual speaking. The tale, such as it was, would have more weight behind it coming from the king.</p><p>Their party fell silent when Ioreth and Dirhael returned, both carrying some herbs they found that the latter had no knowledge of. Fortunately, Aragorn did, having been to Mordor once before, and taught the two of them what he knew. Dirhael knew some bushcraft, having been in Gondor’s army, but it was nothing on the Ranger training both Aragorn and Faramir had, or even Éowyn’s knowledge of some simples from Rohan or Arwen’s many, <em>many</em> years of observing her father Lord Elrond at work. Still, Mordor had plants strange even to them, so they listened closely to what the king knew.</p><p>Yet now that they were actually paying close attention, they noticed something else.</p><p>There was <em>athelas</em> absolutely <span class="u">everywhere</span>. Almost like mile markers, there were great divots dug into the mountainside where snowmelt came down from the high glaciers to water them, hollows smoothed out of the rock walls with cups in the bottom filled with soil from the valleys below, <em>athelas</em> and a few other herbs planted within, blooming cheerfully in the spring warmth and sunlight and perfuming the air with their calming scent. Aragorn stopped them to pick some leaves from several plants, being sure to leave a fair bit behind for anyone who came after. “<em>Eru</em>, if I had known this was here… We could have used this in the Houses of Healing during the war. We <em>still</em> could. Look for seeds.”</p><p>“Do you truly believe we can grow this in Gondor?” Faramir asked, carefully wrapping up what they had found and tucking it away in his pack.</p><p>“We won’t know until we try, but I <em>am</em> hopeful. If they can grow it here, in Mordor, <em>surely</em> <span class="u">we</span> can.” The king tucked his own pouch of seeds away. “But I must confess, now I’m curious - why do they have so <em>much</em>? Surely they are not poisoning each other with Morgul blades left and right to need all of this?”</p><p>No one else could explain its presence, either, but the scent drifted along the road for a great distance in all directions.</p><hr/><p>As before, they reached the fortress at midday, the road narrowing and passing between two mountains that sloped sharply up on either side. The fortress was complete now, but Ioreth’s face was grim as she looked on it. “It reminds me of the Black Gate and the Towers of the Teeth,” she said quietly as they drew near, “There are some obvious differences, but the resemblance is unsettling.”</p><p>Out of courtesy, they did not linger long, but the party did learn the reason for all the <em>athelas</em>. “Keeps the road safe, for the most part,” said one of the Men in the fortress when asked, “Enemy orcs can’t stand the stuff - scent burns their eyes and lungs. Ours are used to it; some even <em>like </em>it.”</p><p>The orc next to him grinned. “Used ta use it ta keep Sauron outta our heads,” he said, “Cleared the mind, made it harder for his <em>shrakh</em> to reach us. Some of us still do - actually tastes pretty good on meat and as a - tea? Is that the word?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Aragorn had a thoughtful expression on his face. “It’s been used to cure headaches, to my knowledge, but I never thought of it being used for such a purpose. Who thought of it?”</p><p>“Boss did,” said the orc, “He used ta be a Ranger, so he knew about the headache thing. When he was fallin’, he gave it a try, hopin’ it’d let him last longer, and it worked. The rest of us followed his lead.”</p><p>After they had departed, setting off deeper into the mountains, Dirhael said, “One of the Nine was a <em>Ranger</em>? I thought they were all kings of Men?”</p><p>“So did I, before we learned of him. More happens in Mordor than any of us are aware of.” Aragorn’s lips were set in a grim line. This was not how they had planned to broach the subject, but it was as good a time as any.</p><p>“Sire?” Dirhael caught himself in time to turn it into a slightly slurred version of <em>Strider</em>, holding to their secrecy as best he could when caught off guard. The road was not crowded like around Minas Tirith, but neither was it empty.</p><p>“Until last night, when we spoke,” he said, nodding to Ioreth, “we had no knowledge of how tightly bound up in this you are. The records of Minas Tirith were… <em>less than forthcoming</em>, and the Rangers of Ithilien who told us about him were young and knew little more than we did, and nothing of how he went from <em>Ranger</em> to <em>Ringwraith</em>. Still… we have been informed that the new Lord of Mordor - is named <em>Talion</em>.”</p><p>Both Ioreth and Dirhael stiffened, eyes wide, before the younger protested, “Si-Strider, that’s impossible! The garrison at the Black Gate was slaughtered to a one, and it’s been <em>decades</em> since then! There’s no way that could be true!”</p><p>“For there to be a <em>Ringwraith</em>, there must be a <em>Ring</em>,” Arwen said quietly, “For the Elves, immortal as we are, there is neither need nor sign, but it is known that for the dwarves and Men that Sauron gave the Seven and the Nine to, the Rings of Power granted them unnaturally long life. The creature called <em>Gollum</em> who found the One Ring lived for more than five hundred years in the Misty Mountains.”</p><p>“But that-!”</p><p>“Dirhael.”</p><p>“Mother!”</p><p>Perhaps it was the influence of the <em>athelas</em> lining the road, but Ioreth seemed to take the news of her husband with unexpected calm. “Either it <em>is</em> your father, and he did <em>not</em> die as we thought,” she said, “or there is someone using his name and history for their own ends, in which case they have earned our wrath, and we will be avenged.”</p><p><em>There </em>it was.</p><p>She turned to the king. “You never spoke of this before.”</p><p>“I did not know that they were one and the same,” he answered, “Dirhael told me that his father was lost with the Gate, but I did not think to ask his name or rank. Nor did I know that the both of you had been there when it happened. Although if I may do so now… what did you see?”</p><p>Ioreth looked back to the road. After a moment, she said, “They came during the night, of course. Mordor had appeared dead for decades even before we arrived, so patrols beyond the first few miles near the Gate had long since been halted. Talion and I weren’t the first time criminals had been sent there, and in the eyes of Minas Tirith, too many had ‘escaped true justice’ by fleeing into Mordor. And so we were woefully unprepared. </p><p>“I don’t know if I can guess the number of orcs that came, only that there were many, <em>many</em> more of them than there were of us. I heard the fighting and hid under the bed in our quarters, and by some mercy, the orcs never found me - probably more focused on the Rangers actually fighting back than searching room by room for others, at least at the time. Eventually Dirhael came to me, and we fled the Gate to Ithilien to wait for Talion… but he never came. After a week of doing what we could to survive, we couldn't wait any longer and returned to Minas Tirith, where my father lived - and still does.”</p><hr/><p>They camped in the mountains that night, and Aragorn said nothing when he heard Ioreth weeping quietly in the dark.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Eight: The Ghost on the Shore</h2></a>
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    <h1>Eight: The Ghost on the Shore</h1><hr/><p>Once the party made their way down from the mountains, Aragorn saw that Legolas had spoken truly. Gorgoroth was indeed a desolation, ruined and empty. Entire swaths of land had fallen into whatever caverns had lain below, but what was left above was a wasteland, nothing living as far as the eye could see to the distant peaks of the Ered Lithui and its Mithram Spur to the north and east.</p><p>The road split into a route going north and south but still stayed near to the mountains, weaving through the foothills where water was more abundant, spring snowmelt pouring down into the shallow valleys. Their party encountered a few other people on the roads, mostly traders heading for Minas Morgul, answering one of Aragorn’s other questions; treaty or no, Talion did allow the Easterlings to pass through Mordor to reach the city. Perhaps if he went through the caravans, there might be some way of reaching the leaders of the far-flung nations and negotiating for true peace, rather than just a lack of fighting. It would be good for Gondor to have more allies than just Rohan and Dale, and trade would help all their nations prosper after such a disastrous war, now that Sauron was finally gone.</p><p>Time would tell if such a thing would be possible.</p><p>It took them four days to reach the edge of Núrn, the desolation of Gorgoroth giving way to fields of long grass and rich, dark earth. There were a few scattered homesteads here and there, but the further down the road they went, the thicker the houses and buildings grew, finally forming a full-fledged city in the shadow of a tall fortress akin to Minas Morgul, itself rising from the foothills of the Maegond Spur of the Ephel Dúath.</p><p>The party stayed for two days in the city known as “Moonshadow”, once the prison of Thaurband. According to the people that lived there, the citadel looming overhead was one of the Gravewalker’s primary residences, a twin to another fortress at the southern end of the Mithram Spur to the north and east, the city there called “Coldharbour” (itself built up around the mines of Tamon Angren). Between the two fortresses guarding the Gap of Núrn, if he got word of trouble Talion could be anywhere in Mordor in less than a day on the back of one of his fire drakes. There were a few of the beasts in question sleeping in the shadow of the fortress’s walls, but none that matched Legolas’s description of the one the Ringwraith rode. A few discreet questions confirmed that Talion was to the south in Núrn proper, visiting the Queen of the Shore.</p><p>There was <em>athelas</em> here as well, hugging the river that snaked down out of the mountains and keeping the air smelling fresh and clean - a passive protection against those who might do them harm.</p><p>Moonshadow was also the first place they saw children in Mordor. There were Mannish children, of course, and even a few dwarflings and - much to Arwen’s <em>great </em>surprise - a handful of Elflings. But none of the party had expected the same of the orcs; they had seen female Uruks, yes, but not one of them had believed they could actually <em>breed</em>. </p><p>But there they were. Most of the orcs were either <em>very</em> young or nearing adulthood, including one notable <em>half</em>-orc, an age gap that they found to be very curious. At a tavern on the second night, when Faramir explained that they were thinking about settling in Mordor and asked one of the orcs about it, the Uruk answered, “Sauron didn’t trust natural-born Uruk - lot harder to control us than the vat-grown ones. After the Gravewalker Fell and the damned Maia took Mordor back - most a’ it, anyway - he didn’t let us have kids. An’ he made <em>examples</em> a’ some, but only reason we didn’t get killed off <em>completely </em>‘s ‘cause we learned things while the Boss was in charge - skills, trades - that let Sauron concentrate on buildin’ his army without wastin’ time on trainin’ more blacksmiths and the like. We were <em>useful</em>. Good riddance, the <em>fucker</em>.” She sneered and spat in the direction of the ruins on Gorgoroth, and several others grumbled in agreement.</p><p>“I suppose it should be fairly obvious, then, but it sounds like you have no love for the Dark Lord.”</p><p>“Don’t think anyone really did, ‘cept maybe the higher-ups. You know, Overlords and warchiefs and them.” She waved a hand. “The way Mordor worked under Sauron, they were the strongest, and the strongest got the best of everythin’ - food, weapons, fights - so a’ course they wanted it to keep goin’ like that. The rest of us were just fodder to keep <em>them </em>goin’ for as long as possible, and most of us knew it, too. Under the Boss, it’s different - you still gotta fight for leadership, yeah, but now you gotta look after things, too. Gotta protect the people under you, keep an eye on the land to make sure you’re not just wipin’ everythin’ out around you, handle trade an’ travel between regions, and if there’s trouble, it’s up to you to deal with it. A’ course you can always ask the Boss for a hand or advice, but he says that in case somethin’ happens to him, he wants us to know how to handle it ourselves.”</p><p>That last was concerning. “Do you think something <em>will</em> happen to him?”</p><p>“Dunno.” She shrugged, and a few other orcs agreed. “There’s still some trouble left over from Sauron, but I think it’s more ‘cause he’s still only one person - can’t be everywhere in Mordor at once.”</p><p>They also learned from the orcs that Moonshadow and Coldharbour had been built before Talion had fallen into darkness, to help close the Gap of Núrn to Sauron’s forces. “Easy to get lost out on the plain, and not a lot of water unless you wanna dig for it or follow the rivers comin’ off the mountains,” said the orc, Shaká, “Most forces comin’ down from Gorgoroth stick close to the mountains anyway, so the towers see ‘em comin’ from a long ways off. Sauron took ‘em when the Boss fell, a’ course, but when he returned, we took ‘em back.”</p><p>“And the drakes?” Aragorn asked, “We saw some sleeping near the tower. Where did they come from?”</p><p>“Sauron used to breed ‘em,'' Shaká answered with a grin, “‘til the Boss started takin’ ‘em, at least. He’s got a gift with ‘em - they’re calm as caragor kits ‘round him, and he can train ‘em easy as breathing. We got drake riders as part a’ the fighting force, and they take messages between regions, too. Lot faster than goin’ by ground. I heard Sauron wanted to use ‘em against them-” She jerked her head in the direction of Gondor beyond the Mountains of Shadow. “-but when the Boss fell, they just - disappeared. Some said that he sent ‘em down south to Carnán to keep ‘em away from Sauron, but no one knows for sure. But they came back when he did, and haven't left since.”</p><hr/><p>They left the morning of the third day after bidding farewell to a few people with whom they had become acquainted, and found passage south on one of the boats traversing the river between Moonshadow and the Sea of Núrnen. On the way, Aragorn found a moment to speak to Ioreth. “What are you thinking, my lady?”</p><p>She let out something like a sigh. “Truth be told, I’m not sure <em>what</em> to think. None of this is what I expected it to be. And Talion - if it <em>is </em>him, I never imagined that he could take Mordor and its people and make them something worthy of pride. Or indeed that <em>anyone</em> could do so.”</p><p>“Everything can change if given enough time, and if what the people say is the truth - and I’m inclined to believe it is - it seems as if he’s had quite a while to work at it. The Black Gate fell decades ago, and he held Mordor against Sauron for a fair stretch of that time.” He looked back to the Moonshadow tower, now a thin spire on the horizon at the very edge of the distant mountains.</p><p>“True enough,” she replied, inclining her head, “And I find that I want to know now more than ever if it truly <em>is </em>Talion who has done these things, who has helped the orcs up out of Sauron’s darkness - and what he intends for the future. As you said, everything can change - including this.”</p><hr/><p>From Moonshadow, it took them only a day to sail down the river to the Sea of Núrnen. Once there, the ship turned east and soon came to another thriving city - Eagle Bay, the capital of the Queendom of the Shore. Unlike Minas Morgul and Moonshadow, Eagle Bay was in an unusual stage of rebuilding. The buildings were oddly constructed, with roofs far wider than their wooden walls would have called for - until they saw that white stone blocks were being laid in <em>around</em> the wood.</p><p>It was Faramir who caught on first. “Wooden buildings can be constructed far faster than stone,” he said, “Build in wood first for shelter, to keep the weather off, but with the damp from the sea, there will be rot even if it’s sealed. Wrap the wood in stone for durability and longevity, sealed well to help protect from the wind and the wet. If they keep the wood sheath inside, that would also do a little more to hold in warmth during the winter.”</p><p>“An intriguing idea,” said Aragorn, “Do we have anything like this? When I was in Pelargir, I could not see for myself.”</p><p>“Not that I’m aware of, but if there’s ever a call for it, we can certainly apply it in the future. Perhaps even in the reconstruction of Osgiliath.”</p><p>Then Arwen pointed, and they followed her direction.</p><p>There was a large house on a low rise near the heart of the city, made of the same white stone as the rest of the city. Yet it wasn't of the same warlike design as the orc fortresses; this one had clearly been built to be pleasing to the eye as well as functional. It formed a U-shape at the top of the hill with a large gate closing off the remaining side, though it was open at the moment, people - Men and orcs alike - coming and going.</p><p>There was a wide stone deck as long as the house in front of the gate, and on the deck lay three fire drakes. One of them was twice the size of the others, scales red like blood, bright and rich against the coal black harness.</p><p>Without a word, all of them turned their horses in the direction of the house. Yet as they drew close enough to see clearly, <em>he</em> emerged from within. Both Ioreth and Dirhael <em>inhaled</em>, and even without the gift of sight from his Númenórean blood, that was confirmation enough in Aragorn’s mind. This <em>was</em> Talion.</p><p>He looked like he had been through hell. His skin was paler than most Men’s, but whether that was because he had not been in the sun or because of the veins of darkness threaded through him, Aragorn couldn’t say. It didn’t help that his armor was black as well, accented with strangely darkened gold. The hood of his cloak was pulled up over his dark hair, the fabric itself whipped about the wind coming off the Sea, but in the shadows, his eyes glowed like the fires of Mount Doom had been kindled within. His face was cold, empty of emotion.</p><p>In a way, he looked even more fearsome than the proper Nazgûl. To those who could not look into the unseen world, they were just dark robes and armored hands; here before them was clearly a Man of terrible power, wrapped in shadow.</p><p>Yet as he approached his drake, some of the emptiness faded, fondness coming forth. His eyes softened, a smile pulling up the corners of his lips. <strong>“Fëanor,”</strong> he called, his voice as hollow and metallic as the vision had shown, but still warm with affection, <strong>“Wake up, sweetheart. It’s time to go.”</strong></p><p>The drake lifted its head to nuzzle him, and he laughed softly and rubbed the beast’s nose. <strong>“None of that now. We have work to do.”</strong></p><p>The drake rolled to its feet, and he swung up on its back, taking up the reins. In a moment, the creature reared up, wings outstretched, then leaped into the sky and headed south over the Sea.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Nine: When Dreams Become Nightmares</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Nine: When Dreams Become Nightmares</h1><hr/><p>“Strider, love, we need to get out of sight.”</p><p>Aragorn pulled his gaze from the receding form to see that Ioreth was now bent double, Dirhael on one side of her, Arwen on the other. The woman’s breath was coming out in quick, violent shudders, and her whole body was shaking even as tears dripped free. He recognized the signs - Elrond and the other healers of Imladris had called it a “panic attack”.</p><p>He looked around again and saw that Faramir was already heading towards the nearest inn. He nodded in satisfaction and quickly looked to Éowyn. “Bring the horses around as a shield, but do not block the path. No need to draw more attention than necessary.”</p><p>She nodded quickly and, expert horsewoman that she was, proceeded to do exactly that. A number of patrolling Uruks in armor looked their way, but seeing that the situation was apparently in hand, they kept moving.</p><p>Aragorn quickly took over at Ioreth’s side and put Dirhael in front of her, then lifted one of the woman’s hands and put it on her son’s chest. “Breathe slow and even,” he told the younger man, who looked pale but followed the command. Then the king turned to the woman. “Ioreth, look at Dirhael. Match his breathing - don’t think about anything else. Just focus on your son and match his breathing.”</p><p>She seemed to hear him and struggled to obey.</p><p>By the time Faramir returned, she had herself back under control, but the attack had left her weak and shaking. They hurried her into their rooms at the inn, though Faramir and Éowyn stayed back to tend to the horses and Aragorn paused briefly to ask for food and drink. Attacks such as this left the body weak and weary, and she would need to replenish her strength.</p><p>Fortunately the inn had a stew that was perfect; the broth was rich, and the meat and vegetables were tender and easy to eat. The king brought it to her as soon as he had it and a light ale in hand, but she could barely bring herself to do more than sip at either. “Ioreth…” he started gently, but then she spoke.</p><p>“You know that the blood of Númenor has been known to grant the occasional gift of sight in dreams, don’t you,” she said, looking up at him, “You have experienced it a time or two, have you not?”</p><p>“I have.”</p><p>“Tell me what you saw.”</p><p>So he did. “Most of them were simple things - conversations yet to come, a few skirmishes while I was with the Rangers. There are now two that made themselves of note. The first occurred the night we encountered my kindred from the north, when King Théoden - may he rest forever in glory - left the Hornburg. I saw myself and my companions taking the Paths of the Dead and coming to stand before the Stone of Erech, where I called to the dead who had abandoned their oaths to my forefather, Isildur. Two nights later, I did exactly that.</p><p>“The second… came the night we spoke in Minas Morgul. I saw Talion as he had been, sparring with Dirhael atop the Black Gate. <em>‘Dirhael, the mighty chicken killer!’</em> he said, and laughed.”</p><p>The other Man jolted and stared at him, eyes wide - confirmation enough that it had indeed been real.</p><p>“From there it changed - he was bound by two of Sauron’s servants and caught in an illusion that - I assume - made it seem as if the two other Rangers who were killed with him were you and Dirhael.</p><p>“And then he was at the foot of Mount Doom, shedding the robes of the Nine for what we just saw.” He gestured toward the house on the hill. “He was dying, but his Ring caught on some other power that let him survive.</p><p>“Then he was in Minas Morgul, with Idril, one of his adopted children, and a number of Rangers from Ithilien, and at their request, he called Boromir back to life.”</p><p>Ioreth buried her face in one of her hands, the other going tight on the bowl of stew. “I, too, have had glimpses of my husband,” she whispered, “Infrequent, but in them he was always <em>fighting</em>, surrounded by orcs and creatures of Mordor. And then he <em>changed</em>…”</p><p>Aragorn let out a slow breath of realization. “You have seen him all this time.”</p><p>“I thought I was dreaming - being tormented by his <em>death</em>,” she choked out, and he saw tears drip free to darken her tunic, “He died so many times, in so many painful ways, that I never imagined he was <em>still alive</em>!”</p><p>He took the bowl from her hands, then pulled her into a gentle embrace. “You do not need to explain yourself to me, Ioreth,” he said, “Not to me, and not to anyone. Not one of us knows what really happened just yet; you could only work off of what you knew to be true at the time.”</p><p>When Dirhael moved closer, the king stepped back and let him take over. He pulled his mother into an embrace of his own. “We <em>will </em>figure this out, Mother,” he said, “<em>Somehow.</em>”</p><hr/><p>Aragorn was bartering with one of the local apothecaries for some of the herbs they’d brought from Gondor when he stumbled across a solution to their problem. They had been trying to work out how to approach Talion with the knowledge that his wife and son were still alive, even as the people in question tried to accept that he, too, was alive - in a manner of speaking. The king was unsure exactly how <em>alive</em> the Nine were, though Talion was certainly much better off than he had been while under Sauron’s control.</p><p>But he was bartering with the apothecary - an ex-slave of Sauron’s, native to Mordor, but he knew his Gondorian herbs - when the door opened behind him and a familiar voice spoke.</p><p>“Hamar, do you have the jar of the - oh! Strider! I wasn't expecting to see you so far inland!” Idril said with a friendly smile.</p><p>“Idril, good to see you,” he said, seeing his chance, “Actually, there’s quite a tale behind it that I’d be happy to tell you later.”</p><p>“I look forward to hearing it,” she replied, even as the apothecary handed over a large earthenware jar. “Thanks, Hamar. Strider, come up to the Sea Cave this evening; we’d be glad to have you for dinner.”</p><p>“Of course. Only - ‘<em>the Sea Cave’</em>? That house looks a bit more elaborate than a <em>cave</em>.”</p><p>That made her chuckle. “According to legend, the first King of the Shore took shelter from a terrible storm in a sea cave that sang him to sleep and hid him from his enemies, and when he finally had a home built, he named it the Sea Cave in honor of it. His heirs have kept up the tradition.”</p><p>“I would be honored - and my wife and our companions, if they are also invited.”</p><p>“The more, the merrier.”</p><p>She departed soon after, and he finished up with the apothecary before returning to the inn. There, he gathered them all together and told them of his encounter with Idril. When she had heard, Ioreth asked, “If we tell her, do you think she will believe us?”</p><p>“Only one way to find out.”</p><hr/><p>They had not brought any fine clothing with them, not expecting that they would be invited to dine with the daughter of the Lord of Mordor and potentially the Queen of the Shore. Still, they managed to make themselves at least somewhat presentable and arrived early at the Sea Cave.</p><p>They were expected, and they were indeed introduced to the Queen of the Shore. She was not a young woman, but neither was she of the blood of Númenor; it was expected that she would age like other Men. Idril introduced her husband also: Baranor, a Man of Haradrim descent and once a captain of Minas Morgul while she yet bore the name “Ithil”.</p><p>When Aragorn introduced Ioreth and Dirhael, all three of them recognized the names. Talion must have spoken of them to the family he had built within the walls of Mordor. There was a moment of silence before Idril said, “I take it that it is not a coincidence that you share the names of his wife and son.”</p><p>“No,” said Ioreth, “it is not.”</p><p>Idril looked to Aragorn. “‘Quite the tale’ indeed. Please, come in where we may speak privately.”</p><p>Lithariel, the Queen of the Shore, directed them all to a receiving room of sorts off the main hall, and there took a seat, the others following her lead. “I am most intrigued to hear how you survived the assault on the Black Gate, especially since Father said he saw you die before his very eyes.”</p><p>So Ioreth and Dirhael recounted their flight from the Gate for Lithariel, Idril, and Baranor, and Aragorn added what he had seen of the end Talion had met atop it.</p><p>That made Idril look at him with fresh eyes. “You are of the blood of Númenor.”</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>A slight smile pulled at her lips. “You are not who you say you are, are you.”</p><p>“I <em>am</em> who I say I am,” the king corrected, “but that is not <em>all</em> I am.”</p><p>“Fair.” She inclined her head, then turned back to Ioreth and Dirhael. “We do not know the whole tale, for there are things Talion kept even from us, but if you wish to hear what we know, we will tell you.”</p><p>When both nodded, she continued. “The Black Gate fell, as you well know, at the hands of an army of orcs led by three Black Númenóreans - Sauron’s captains. The Tower, the Hammer, and the Hand. He and - his fellow Rangers - were ritually sacrificed to call the spirit of the Elven smith Celebrimbor out of the darkness. I am told he had been roaming Mordor for thousands of years as one of the restless dead, Sauron binding him here and seeking to control him so that he might make a new One Ring after the first was lost.”</p><p>All of them inhaled sharply, but it was Arwen who said, “I take it that since we are still here, Sauron did not succeed.”</p><p>“Indeed not. Celebrimbor emerged and managed to bind himself to <em>Talion</em> rather than the Hand, thus escaping that fate and giving Talion himself a form of immortality. He could be slain, yes, but so long as Celebrimbor shared his body, he would always return to life.”</p><p>“<em>Gravewalker</em>,” said Faramir, and Idril nodded.</p><p>“Talion sought revenge on the Black Captains for their roles in your perceived deaths, striking at Sauron’s forces, humiliating his orc captains and killing his warchiefs. Yet even amongst the orcs, there are outcasts - those who take no pleasure in fighting as do their kin, those who fight better with their minds than their bodies, those who want nothing to do with war at all. He saved some of them on accident, and they started rallying to his banner, together with Men he freed from slavery and the Tribesmen of Núrn. Even some powerful captains came over to help lead their forces. </p><p>“They tipped the balance, and Talion and Celebrimbor killed all three of the Númenóreans.</p><p>“But with that, they were not satisfied. I cannot speak for Celebrimbor himself, for he disappeared before I could ask his thoughts, but Talion decided to keep fighting so that no one else would suffer as he had.</p><p>“They came to the aid of Minas Ithil when Sauron’s forces laid siege - not that they were able to do much, for my own blood father sold the city to the Witch-king in an attempt to spare my life.” She rolled her eyes, shook her head. “The city fell, and since escape to Gondor was cut off, we retreated into Mordor and fought to survive and harry Sauron’s forces as best we could.</p><p>“I never heard exactly what happened - no one has; Talion refuses to speak of it, and so far as we are aware, no one else was witness to it. But when they had conquered the rest of Mordor and marched on the Dark Tower, Celebrimbor was lost - some say <em>stolen</em>… and Talion came back wearing that Ring.</p><p>“But he retook Minas Morgul and kept up the fight, held as much of Mordor as he could against Sauron for as long as he could. He finally fell into darkness - what, five years before the end? - and when Barad-dûr went down… he came home.” She was silent for a moment, then looked to Ioreth. “You want to see him. Speak with him.”</p><p>“If indeed we can. I cannot imagine that he will react any better to us being alive than we did him.”</p><p>“You are right in that,” she replied, nodding grimly, “He will not. He told me once, towards the end, that one of the few things he took comfort in was that you would never see him like this.”</p><p>“He’ll try to run.”</p><p>“And you must let him, but he won’t go far. He never does.”</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Ten: Phantoms of the Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Ten: Phantoms of the Heart</h1><hr/><p>Talion was away to the south, taking care of some trouble that was lingering around one of Sauron’s old fortresses, but he was supposed to return by sunset the next day. That gave them a little bit over a day to figure out how to approach the Ringwraith in a manner that would keep him from fleeing his family on sight. Idril may have said that he would not go far, but <em>not far</em> on drake-back was still <em>very </em>far indeed; he could be at Minas Tirith in a few hours, a journey that had taken them over a week.</p><p>“This is the same difficulty we had approaching you about what we knew,” said Éowyn, “What do we say? Strider, you say that one of the Black Númenóreans used an illusion to deceive Talion into thinking his family died with him?”</p><p>“That is what I saw, yes.”</p><p>“But how do we tell <em>him</em> that?”</p><p>“The Ring used to trick him all the time towards the end,” Baranor said quietly, “Spoke to him, made him see things that weren't there. We’ll have to be careful of that - he might think it’s acting up again.”</p><p>That made them all fall silent. There was no real way to tell how Talion would react if he thought that was the case, especially now that Sauron was gone. Before, he had held on until the bitter end in order to protect the West for as long as possible, but now that that threat had ended…</p><p>“He might decide that he’s becoming a danger to us again and…”</p><p>Ioreth shook her head at once. “Perhaps it would be best for us to hold back, and one of you approach him first. Do you know anything about the - the Ring’s deception? What forms it took, how they behaved?”</p><p>“Only that he could never lay hands on them,” Baranor replied, “He said they would vanish like smoke if he tried, so when it started getting worse, we would hold his hand or otherwise make sure we touched him when we spoke to him, so that he would know we were real.”</p><p>Aragorn could understand why that pained Ioreth; her husband had been suffering, and she had seen it and done nothing. He had built a new family, but it would have been better if she had been there to comfort him, her and Dirhael both.</p><p>“I agree with Ioreth,” said Idril, “I will do it - tell him what’s happening, what we’ve all learned. Then it will be up to him to decide what to do, how he wants to handle this. But first, answer me this: what is it that you want? Do you simply want him to know that you are alive? That you are living in Minas Tirith and he is welcome to visit? Or do you want to be a part of his life as it is now, and have him be a part of yours?”</p><p>“That is the question, isn’t it,” Ioreth said softly, “I love my husband dearly, but I do not know if everything between us can go back to the way it was before all of this happened. Personally I doubt it. But I <em>do </em>know that I do not want him to continue believing us dead - that would be easier, perhaps, but cruel beyond measure, given how long he kept fighting in our names.”</p><p>Dirhael nodded in agreement. “I feel the same. I have always thought ‘if I had been stronger, faster, I could have saved him.’ I do not doubt that he has thought the same. It will hurt to know that we live and all his struggles were - well, not <em>for nothing</em>. He has done much good for Mordor that we have seen, but…”</p><p>The others seemed to understand what he was trying to say. “He was fighting for you,” said Baranor, “on your behalf, to avenge your deaths, but though the struggle itself was not for nothing, the revenge he sought <em>was</em>.”</p><p>The younger man nodded. “I would like to have him back in my life as well. He has been greatly missed.”</p><hr/><p>The party returned to their inn for the night to rest, though many of them lay awake into the small hours of the morning. Aragorn traced the path he had seen Talion take in his mind, the struggle of which Idril spoke in Mordor, and wondered how he himself would have reacted if he had seen Arwen die before his very eyes, only to have it be a falsehood made by Sauron’s minions to amplify his pain - and to know that he had avenged himself on them, but for the wrong reasons. Perhaps like how he had relentlessly fought the orc who had slain Boromir, and hunted down the ones who had had a part in the other Man’s death. Was that any different than Talion’s decades-long onslaught through Mordor?</p><p>Despite his sleepless hours, he woke well rested, and they returned to the Sea Cave to meet with Idril and the others. But once there, they could do nothing but wait for Talion to return. So much revolved around his reaction to the news of their false demise.</p><p>As time passed and the tension grew, they took to sharing stories of their lives, tales of what adventurers they had gone on. One way or another, they were family now through the Ringwraith; it was unlikely he would abandon either of them, and they would never ask. </p><p>Baranor, at least, was a gifted storyteller, and he held them rapt with tales of their struggles in Mordor, such that they barely noticed when the sun began to curve down toward the horizon again. Yet as the sky darkened, there was no sign of Fëanor and Talion with her - and oh, both Aragorn and Arwen had gotten a <em>kick</em> out of a <em>female</em> fire drake being named after the greatest <em>male</em> Elven smith in history.</p><p>It was full dark by the time they heard the leathery flap of drake wings coming down just outside the courtyard. But Talion didn't enter the house right away; it seemed that some people - Men and orcs - went out to meet him, and they spoke quietly out in the dark. Idril used that time to bring them out into the entrance hall of the Sea Cave, then approached the door - right as Talion entered.</p><p>The shadows of the night beyond the hall seemed to cling to him like smoke, dimming the bright torches set in sconces between the Sea Cave’s many windows. He was looking at something in his hands - a ring? No, a <em>Ring of Power</em> - but he looked up when Idril approached, a soft smile on his terrible face. </p><p>But that smile slowly fell when he beheld the serious expression she wore, and he visibly hesitated when she held out her hand. After a moment, he tucked the Ring into his other hand and took hers, surprisingly gentle; despite his clawed gauntlets, she wasn’t even grazed by the sharp metal. Idril squeezed his hand through the armor, then began to speak.</p><p>Aragorn couldn’t hear what was said, but he knew the instant Idril told Talion his family was still alive. The Ringwraith straightened and went stiff as a board, eyes wide and lips parting - but he also caught on quickly; if they had presented themselves elsewhere in Mordor, there would have been a message directing him to them. That there was not, meant that they were <em>here</em>.</p><p>His fiery eyes found his family at once, and his breath left him, shoulders sagging in something like relief. Aragorn saw his eyes go glassy with unshed tears, even as Ioreth took a few steps toward him, a hopeful smile starting to turn her lips up. A few tears slipped free, and the Nazgûl reached up to wipe them away - and remembered himself, going stiff again. Then he distinctly shied away, curled in on himself, pulling his cloak close to hide his fell black armor and terrible face.</p><p>“Talion!” Ioreth cried, but he was already gone; in the blink of an eye, his body dissolved into black smoke lit from within by a fell green aura - the poison green of the magic from the fight with Tar Goroth - and whipped back through the door, vanishing into the night.</p><hr/><p>By dawn there was still no sign of the Ringwraith, but Fëanor was still stretched out on half the deck in front of the Sea Cave, so he couldn't have gone <em>too</em> far. Idril said that while it was possible for him to travel anywhere as that smoke, it was a hard shape to hold onto; he had to focus to maintain it, but actually being in smoke form made it difficult to do so. But it meant that he could never get <em>stuck</em> like that, so they called it a victory. “He mostly uses it in combat, in short bursts,” she said, “If he can’t block in time - well, you can’t really hit <em>air</em>, now can you?”</p><p>Lithariel had them shift to stay in some of the many guest rooms in the Sea Cave. “We don’t actually get many visitors here,” she told them, “The kingdoms to the east and south are still dealing with the upheaval caused by Sauron’s demise. <em>Surprisingly enough</em>, he wasn’t very <em>popular</em>, and the people he put in power have been thrown down - but now those countries are trying to figure out how to lead themselves now that they’re gone.”</p><p>“What about the previous leaders?” Faramir asked, “The ones before Sauron’s servants?”</p><p>“Most of them are dead, from what we’ve heard. Those few that aren’t have long fled.”</p><p>“...Unfortunate. Even if their reigns were far from ideal, a return to the old ways would have lent them some stability.”</p><p>“Agreed.”</p><p>That evening, they all ate together in Lithariel’s dining hall, and Aragorn took the chance to bring up something that had been on his mind. “I couldn't help but notice that there are a lot more guards here than in Minas Morgul,” he said, but it was not Idril or Lithariel who answered.</p><p>
  <strong>“There are two other Nazgûl that yet remain.”</strong>
</p><p>Some of them jumped at the distorted voice, and they all looked up from their meal. No one had noticed the slow darkening of one of the corners, but now in the rafters above, there was a patch of deep shadow, a Mannish shape just visible within. Talion was sitting on one of the crossbeams, head tilted back against a post, legs pulled up a little and arms draped over his knees. <strong>“I never bothered to learn their names,”</strong> he went on, staring up at the ceiling, <strong>“After I fell, it didn't seem to matter. Same as they only ever called me ‘the Ranger’, I knew them as ‘the Staff’ and ‘the Hammer’.”</strong></p><p>“They’ve been causing trouble?” Dirhael only half asked.</p><p>There was a hint of a smirk in the dark, but his tone made it obvious. <strong>“More for each other than for me. They’ve never gotten along, but they know they can’t overcome me on their own so they’re trying to work together.”</strong></p><p>“Hence more trouble for them than you.”</p><p><strong>“Indeed.”</strong> He shifted a little, folded one leg down and let his hand fall into his lap. <strong>“They’re still blaming each other for their failure with Tar Goroth.”</strong></p><p>“You never told me they were responsible for that!” Idril cried. Lithariel looked equally upset.</p><p>
  <strong>“Did I not? Well they were. Took a page out of Zog’s book and tried to get that damned Balrog out of the lake where it’s buried. The Staff focused the summer heat on the ice, while the Hammer tried to keep me distracted elsewhere.”</strong>
</p><p>“Since we haven’t all been turned to ash,” Ioreth said, moving a little closer to look up at her husband, “I take it their plan failed.”</p><p>Fiery eyes peered down at her out of the dark. <strong>“It did,”</strong> he confirmed,<strong> “Though few in number, there are still some of the Eldar here, and enough power yet remains to them that they were able to hold back the Ringwraiths while Carnán and I took care of Tar Goroth.”</strong></p><p>“‘Carnán’? We’ve heard that name mentioned before.”</p><p><strong>“She is a <em>very </em>powerful spirit of nature. Her forest is west of here, near where the river coming off the Mountains of Shadow meets the Sea of Núrn.”</strong> He leaned his head back against the post again. <strong>“Speaking from experience, angering her is <em>most </em>unwise. I’m almost tempted to bait the Staff and the Hammer into doing so, if only so I can watch her beat them to a pulp.”</strong></p><p>“Have they not done so already? They tried to call back the Balrog you two worked so hard to put down.”</p><p>There was a speculative hum at Lithariel’s suggestion. <strong>“She’s still resting from the fight right now, but if it comes to it, I’ll wake her and tell her that. I almost look forward to seeing the results.”</strong></p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Eleven: In the Labyrinth of Drakes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Eleven: In the Labyrinth of Drakes</h1><hr/><p>Talion may have returned from wherever he’d gone to hide from them, but he was still reluctant, prone to flight at the slightest provocation like a skittish horse. Most often he could be found lurking up in the rafters during the day, out of the sunlight and wreathed in shadow; he was no longer one with the darkness as he had been under Sauron, but he still wasn’t enthusiastic about the noontime sun.</p><p>Yet Aragorn noticed that Ioreth and Dirhael weren't the only ones who held the Ringwraith’s attention. He himself received his fair share of curious glances and hard stares, as if there was a question on the other’s mind. But the Man never approached him, only watched from afar. </p><p>Idril, Baranor, and Lithariel could often be found shaking their heads at Talion’s reluctance to approach his family, occasionally joined by a skinny orc who introduced himself as Ratbag, Talion’s very first orc friend.</p><p>That comment earned a <strong>“We were <em>not</em> friends when we met, Ratbag,”</strong> from the rafters. </p><p>“Ah, you say we weren't<em> when we met</em>. So we are <em>now</em>?”</p><p>There was a heavy sigh, even as Dirhael snickered softly. <strong>“I walked right into that one, didn’t I.”</strong></p><p>“But he’s not denying it, is he?” Ratbag said to the rest of them, “Notice how he’s not denying we’re friends now.”</p><p>There was another heavy sigh. <strong>“Yes, fine, we’re friends. That means you have a grand total of <em>two</em>, assuming Ranger’s willing to include himself in that.”</strong></p><p>The Olog-Hai with the little orc - apparently the “Ranger” in question - grunted something in one of the many dialects of Black Speech.</p><p>
  <strong>“What do you know, it’s your lucky day, Ratbag. <em>Two</em> friends.”</strong>
</p><p>Counter to what Talion apparently intended, the little orc looked absolutely delighted.</p><hr/><p>Ioreth slipped from her bed late one night. Talion was less active and responsive during the day, so it made sense to seek him out after the sun went down. She didn’t have to look very far before she found him.</p><p>He was out on the deck of the Sea Cave with Fëanor, the drake curled up around him to shelter him from the wind but also so she could lay her head in his lap. Her eyes were half-lidded, and Ioreth could hear her purring even over the gentle blowing of the wind. </p><p>Talion looked up as she approached, then looked away again, but at least he did not shrink from her as he had before. Nor did he stop her from petting the drake as he himself was doing. “Idril tells me you named her after Celebrimbor’s grandfather.”</p><p><strong>“I did.” </strong>He hesitated a moment, then continued, <strong>“When she was younger - not quite fresh from the shell, but before she was big enough to ride - she used to haunt the forges and watch the smiths work. I thought it only appropriate that she be named for one of the finest who ever lived.”</strong></p><p>“It must have been upsetting for her when she grew too large.”</p><p>That actually made the Ringwraith <em>laugh</em>. <strong>“Oh, it <em>was</em>. You should have heard her <em>scream</em> when she finally got too big to fit in her favorite quenching barrel; you would have thought the world was ending.”</strong> </p><p>He grinned down at the drake, who seemed to understand what they were speaking of because she lifted her head to huff a small cloud of smoke into the Man’s face. He choked and coughed on it, waving an armored hand to clear the air, and Ioreth covered her mouth to muffle her laughter.</p><p><strong>“<em>Rude</em>,”</strong> Talion growled at the drake, but she laid her head back down without responding.</p><p>“She seems different than the others.”</p><p><strong>“She is.”</strong> He resumed scratching at her scales, clawed gauntlets scraping over the armor. <strong>“I got her egg freshly laid and… I used <em>It </em>to change her while she was still in the shell.”</strong></p><p>He flexed his fingers, and for the first time, Ioreth looked right at the Ring on his finger. On the surface, it was a fine thing - bright gold, as close to pure as it could be without deforming during daily wear, and the gemstone was a ruby clearer and richer than anything she had ever seen.</p><p>But only on the surface. Despite the metal’s luster, the band was dark with strange engravings, and the ruby glowed faintly with a fell light.</p><p>She looked away from it quickly, but for a moment she felt the overpowering urge to attack him for it, to try and wrestle it off his hand and onto her own. But the impulse was gone as quick as it had come, and she shuddered with its absence.</p><p><strong>“A nasty thing, isn’t it,”</strong> Talion stated more than asked, as if he knew what it had tried to do, <strong>“Sauron is gone, but his influence still lingers.”</strong></p><p>“Are there no others? Ones that are not - like this?”</p><p>
  <strong>“There were three that I know for sure - <em>Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky</em>. But they have since gone into the West, along with their bearers. And one other… which is missing, along with <em>its </em>bearer.”</strong>
</p><p>Ioreth frowned and rested one of her hands on his own - not the one that bore the Ring. “I know that phrase. <em>Three Rings</em>…”</p><p><strong>“<em>Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,”</em></strong> Talion intoned, gaze distant, <strong>“<em>Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne, In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them, In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.</em>”</strong></p><p>For a moment the sea breeze turned bitterly cold and biting, and the torches around them dimmed, stars seeming to go dark above them while the Ring’s glow brightened. But then it was gone just as fast as it had come, the Ring dimming as the torches and stars returned.</p><p><strong>“The Three have gone West,”</strong> Talion continued, <strong>“Four of the Seven were consumed by dragonfire, the rest reclaimed by Sauron and destroyed when Barad-dûr fell, which was caused by the destruction of the One. And the Nine - well. All but three are gone now.”</strong></p><p>“This one and - the ones that the Hammer and the Staff have?”</p><p>He nodded and leaned back against Fëanor. <strong>“The others… I know not how - we should have died with it - but when the One was destroyed, we came back out of the dark. For the most part,”</strong> he amended, <strong>“The others were under Sauron’s control for a lot longer than I was - they have forgotten what it’s like to be free Men. That-”</strong> He struggled for a word foul enough to encompass all that Sauron was, then spat something in a dialect of Black Speech that could only have been a vicious curse. <strong>“-has only ever been cruel and malicious and sought to dominate all life, and they are still extensions of his will.”</strong></p><p>“You’ve been destroying them.”</p><p>It wasn’t really a question, but Talion nodded anyway. He hesitated, then spoke again, quieter. <strong>“I don’t know if I still consider myself <em>a Man of Gondor</em> any longer, but now that my mind is my own again, I will not let the West fall to <em>them </em>any more than I would have let it fall to Sauron. I <em>will</em> put them down.”</strong></p><p>“Good.” Despite the hardness of his armor, Ioreth leaned against his side and rested her head on his shoulder. He stiffened, but after a long moment, he snaked an arm around her shoulders and held her close.</p><hr/><p>Fëanor laid an egg the very next day, earning an exasperated sigh from the Ringwraith. <strong><em>“You,”</em></strong> was all he said before calling for some blankets and pillows to carefully cushion the shell while it hardened, to prevent the drakeling within from suffering any damage or defects while it formed.</p><p>“How long will it take?” Ioreth asked, peering carefully at the egg. It seemed to be vaguely scale-patterned, red and black, but the shell was smooth under her fingers. Fëanor didn’t seem to react to her touching it, assuming - rightly so - that the egg was safe under her hands. She wouldn't hurt the child of her husband’s mount.</p><p><strong>“For the little one to hatch? About a month. As it gets further along, I can show you a little, if you want.”</strong> He carefully held the egg up to the sun, though he winced a little at the brightness. She saw what he meant there; with the light behind it, the shell was somewhat see-through, and there was a diffuse dark spot in the center.</p><p>He set it back down in the blankets, tucked up against Fëanor’s side. The drake nosed her egg, then nuzzled him and purred. <strong>“You just want to get out of doing any actual work,”</strong> he accused, earning a snort and another huff of smoke. <strong>“That just proves my point, and you know it.”</strong></p><hr/><p>Talion started coming out of the woodwork a bit at a time. A few days after Fëanor pushed out her egg, Aragorn found the Ringwraith sparring with his son. Though not quite as grand as the one in Minas Tirith, the deck in front of the Sea Cave actually wrapped all the way around the palace, and he found them out back where the deck turned to a grassy hill that looked out over the Sea.</p><p>Talion was out of his armor for once. Mordor was dangerous, he knew, but surely not enough to justify wearing his armor day in and day out? Regardless, he had stripped down to a simple sleeveless tunic and trousers, not even socks or boots on the faintly damp grass beyond the deck. But that let the king see that the darkening of his veins wasn’t just on his face - it was all over his body, arms and fingers, feet and toes, though whether he was just naturally pale now or hadn’t been exposed to the sun was still up for debate.</p><p>Dirhael was skilled, Aragorn could see it now. Almost all Gondorian soldiers were trained in a similar style of fighting, how to move, how to stand, how to swing a blade, and Dirhael knew it well indeed.</p><p>Talion’s fighting had nearly the same base to it, but there the similarities ended. He was unconventional, unpredictable with an edge of vicious strength, feinting just enough to trick Dirhael into thinking he was committing to an attack, then swinging around to a new course and smacking the younger man with the flat of his blade.</p><p>Aragorn arrived just in time to see that happen, sharp enough that Dirhael couldn't hold onto his sword. It fell to the grass with a soft thump even as Talion flicked the tip of his sword up to his son’s throat. He held it there for a second, then let it fall. <strong>“You’ve gotten much better than I remember,”</strong> Talion said, stepping back and letting Dirhael reclaim his sword.</p><p>The younger man huffed a little. “Not as good as you.”</p><p><strong>“I’d certainly hope not,”</strong> the Ringwraith replied, twisting his sword hand and letting the blade roll easily through his fingers, <strong>“I’d <em>never </em>wish on you the circumstances that made me the way I am, no matter how powerful or skilled I’ve become as a result.”</strong></p><p>They began again, and Aragorn watched as Dirhael picked up a little more with each bout, held onto his sword a little longer. Perhaps he would never be as good as his father - few indeed could ever hope to make that claim, and Aragorn half wanted to test Andúril against the Nazgûl’s dark blade. But Dirhael would be more than good enough, the king decided, and slipped away.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Twelve: Sword of the Dark Deep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Twelve: Sword of the Dark Deep</h1><hr/><p>The alarm sounded well after sunset, though not quite to the midnight hour. </p><p>Talion was back in his armor, perched up in the shadow-filled rafters of the Sea Cave, but the rest of them were below, sitting in front of a roaring fire and sharing drinks of warm <em>chocolat</em> from the south, sweetened with honey and lightly spiced with priceless cinnamon. Baranor was telling another story about some sort of madness they all had gotten up to during their long tenure in Mordor, gesturing with both his cup and his free hand with Idril sitting next to him, watching him with soft eyes and a softer smile. Aragorn watched them and wondered if that would be him and Arwen someday, when he was old enough to pass for her grandfather while she still held eternity in her hands like all the Eldar.</p><p>Then sharp bells rang over the city, and Idril jumped to her feet at once, face already fierce in anticipation of a fight. Baranor took her cup before she could drop it, saying, “Fight well, my love.” She kissed him quickly and darted for her sword, even as the rest of them scrambled for their weapons.</p><p>Talion dropped from the rafters, shadows gathered close, and Aragorn’s blood turned to ice. The Man seemed more terrible than ever before, no blankness in his face - only <em>wrath</em> making his eyes <em>blaze</em>, even as the darkened veins turned that poison green with gathering power. He whipped through the doors ahead of them all, half flesh and half smoke, there and gone in a blink.</p><p>They emerged from the Sea Cave to see him <em>launch</em> a ball of green power toward the cloudbank overhead. It hit and rippled out in a wave, traveling as fast as the wind, and lightning lanced across the sky and lingered, throwing the region into daylight. </p><p>There were people running through the streets, weapons in hand, heading for fights on the outskirts of Eagle Bay, but Aragorn’s attention was caught by a far greater threat: two Nazgûl on Fellbeasts, diving for the city. One had a staff that glowed with a fiery light, and the other carried a massive warhammer with a single hand.</p><p>Yet a wave of power caught his attention. He whipped around - and saw Talion wreathed in a fell aura, that same poison green as all his power. He was gathering strength, and the air grew charged and heavy. A taste slicked his throat - not the iron tang of <em>death</em>, but instead the choking dust and sickly sweet decay of <em>unlife</em>.</p><p>Not <em>killing</em>, but <em>calling back</em>.</p><p>The Ringwraith threw his arms out and released the power in another wave, and translucent blue-green specters began appearing all around them. Men of Númenor and Gondor, soldiers and Rangers, even Easterlings and Haradrim stepped out of the night, and orcs of all kinds alongside them, Sauron’s and Talion’s, from Overlords to slaves. <strong>“Defend the city!”</strong> the Ringwraith ordered, and they raced to do just that, even as the Nazgûl himself turned to his drake. <strong>“Fëanor, with me!”</strong></p><p>The drake shrieked and leaped into the sky, even as two of the specters carried her egg into the Sea Cave. Talion himself lifted a ghostly hammer, aiming for one of the other Ringwraiths - and was gone like lightning. He hit the other Ringwraith with enough force that it sent the Fellbeast tumbling through the air, and Aragorn couldn’t see what he did - even with the lightning now flickering constantly through the clouds, it was still too dark - but whatever it was, it was enough that the Fellbeast couldn't recover. </p><p>The winged creature crashed into the Sea of Núrnen, but the two Ringwraiths escaped as smoke beforehand, coming down on two nearby rooftops.</p><p>The Staff was as the Ringwraiths had been, dark robes and armored hands, and Aragorn could see the same glowing eyes as Talion’s deep under the other’s hood. Yet there was only the barest suggestion of a human face in the dark, and the Nazgûl screamed at his foe, bringing his staff up even as he gathered his own power.</p><p>Talion shrieked right back, louder, <em>angrier</em>, and lanced across the space between them, sword flashing and glowing green.</p><p>Fëanor, meanwhile, was attacking the other Ringwraith, the Hammer, who was still aloft and mounted. The Fellbeast was more maneuverable, but the fire drake was more heavily armed and armored, and her fire blazed in the dark, scorching the Fellbeast’s hide and making it scream in pain.</p><p>Idril found him and the others, and led them all to where the fighting was the thickest. Even in the dark, Aragorn could see the difference between Talion’s orcs and the other Nazgûl’s; their allies were fighting side by side with Men and Elves and dwarves and specters, and they wore the blue hand or the red drake symbols with pride, where the enemy had the marks of a dozen other orc tribes, all united under Sauron’s Eye.</p><p>The king lost himself to the fighting for what seemed an Age, but couldn't have been more than a quarter of an hour. At last, he heard Fëanor’s triumphant roar somewhere behind and above, and when he looked up for the briefest moment, he glimpsed a cloud of smoke racing away from the city. It was followed closely by a second, the Staff retreating now that the Hammer was no longer there to support him, and a moment later, as if on instinct, the allied orcs’ lines gave way. Aragorn found himself and Ioreth both being hauled backward by one of Talion’s captains. “Boss is coming!” the orc shouted, both to them and the others, “Let him through!”</p><p>It seemed he blinked, and then they were hit by a wave of power. Talion <em>slammed</em> into the enemy lines, sending bodies flying. The Nazgûl was in a high temper, wrapped in a fell aura, and he <em>shrieked</em> in wrath, then charged the enemy orcs, sword in hand and carving a green arc through the front lines of their foes. Every orc he cut down rose again, reanimated by the power of the Ring and the one who wore it. </p><p>The Ringwraith’s allies fanned out on either side of him, and together they drove the enemy back. The other orcs started fleeing, first a few at a time, then in groups. Then Talion savagely killed one of the most powerful attacking captains and raised him back as an ally, and the whole line collapsed, the attacking force fleeing into the dark.</p><hr/><p>The physical damage was not as bad as Aragorn had initially feared. Whatever Talion had done to the clouds overhead had caused a heavy rainstorm, but it was gone by dawn and put out several fires in the process. In terms of actual losses, only a few people were laid to rest permanently, the rest called back by the power of the Ring.</p><p>Other things were more difficult. Ioreth and Dirhael were silent and withdrawn, having witnessed for the first time at least part of the horror that Talion had become. He had been defending them, true enough, but the ease and familiarity with which he moved through such brutal displays, wielded such terrible magic, and the power he was able to put behind the attacks… It made even Aragorn shudder.</p><p>And it made him wonder how much of the Man there truly was left.</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Thirteen: The Stranger</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Thirteen: The Stranger</h1><hr/><p>
  <em>She had dreamed this many times before, and likely would again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was night, rain pouring down out of the dark sky, making slick the stone and steel of the Black Gate. Talion was fighting, orc after orc falling to the gleaming silver edge of Urfael. He was a skilled warrior, her husband, and though she’d hated living on the frontier, she’d been proud beyond words of the work he did to defend their homeland. </em>
</p><p><em>But as always, those three appeared to stop him. She knew them now - the Tower, the Hammer, and the Hand. Talion was disarmed, his sword hand crushed under a heavy blow from the Hammer, before he was dragged up onto his knees with two other Rangers of the Black Gate. </em>Their <em>last words were not important, at least not to her. They were long dead, long at peace.</em></p><p>
  <em>Talion called for her. For her and their son. He gasped and wept as the other Rangers died, their throats slit by cold steel; even in the dream, she could smell the salt of his tears even over the iron tang of blood.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then it was his turn. Yet as she watched, the heart of the sword cutting his neck open glowed with a fell light, the same blue-tinged poison green corpselight of Minas Morgul. His blood spilled black down his front, staining his armor, darkening the sigil of the garrison of the Black Gate, before his body was dropped carelessly to the wet stone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She looked up, her heart in her throat, but it wasn't the Hand looking back at her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Talion the Ringwraith stood over the dying form of Talion the Ranger, eyes blazing with fire but face cold and empty, watching her as if she were simply an insect he was debating killing like her husband at his feet. But then he seemed to make a decision and stepped over the Ranger’s body even as he gasped his last.</em>
</p><p><em>His armor was wet against her skin and icy cold, but the clawed gauntlets didn't even so much as graze her skin as he dragged the tips slowly over her cheek… then dropped down to close his hand around her throat and </em>squeeze<em>.</em></p><hr/><p>Ioreth came awake with a gasp, sitting bolt upright in her bed. For a moment she didn’t know where she was, blinking at the room only dimly illuminated by the dying fire, but then she remembered. </p><p>Mordor. The Sea Cave. <em>Talion</em>.</p><p>She forced herself to lay back even as she shuddered. The king had told her that Talion had been one of the Nine - <em>was still one</em>, she had seen the Ring on his finger - but it was one thing to know it. It was another thing entirely to see it with her own eyes, to see her once bright and warm and loving husband turned into a dark and cold spirit of wrath, to watch as he called the dead back from their rest and moved with that predator’s gait and <em>shrieked</em> with that Nazgûl’s voice. </p><p>She still remembered when the Nine had come against Minas Tirith, hearing them scream and feeling the cold fear seize her heart as their Fellbeasts swooped low over the tiers of the White City, as fearless of the weapons of Men as the Men were fearful of their own.</p><p>She wondered which of them had had her husband’s face hidden behind those dark robes - and then wished never to know.</p><hr/><p>Dirhael had encountered the Nazgûl directly once before, when he was part of the garrison that held Osgiliath against the forces of Mordor. He remembered the screams of the black-robed horrors, the way their cries had sent a bolt of unnatural fear into his heart. The light and warmth of the sun had seemed weak and distant while they were on the wing, the shadows of death and Mordor drawn close around them. </p><p>He had felt that same fear last night. Even though he knew - he <em>knew</em> - that his father would never lift his sword to harm them, the cold of the Nazgûl’s cries had bitten through his armor and sunk deep into his bones, resurrecting that old terror. In those moments, he had been sure of <em>nothing</em>, had seen Urfael’s fell light and bright edge and had known that that sword would carve him up in seconds - and that after he fell, the Ring on the Nazgûl’s finger would call him back to serve.</p><p>And there was absolutely nothing he could have done to stop it. </p><p>He’d kept fighting, however. He’d pushed through the effects of the Nazgûl’s shrieks, cut down enemy orcs who seemed even more fearful of his father than he was in those moments - and watched them rise again when the Nazgûl drew near, the terrible power of necromancy shivering through the air.</p><p>The promise of life after death, if only he would bow his head and serve the Ring and the one who wore it.</p><p>Dirhael wondered which of them was the real master of the undead - and then wished never to know.</p><hr/><p>So that was it then.</p><p>They had finally seen.</p><p>Talion had striven hard to keep his darkness from touching them, but it finally had. Akhôrahil the Sorcerer and Helm Hammerhand had driven him to it, had attacked him and his people, trying to seize power in Mordor, and he had let his fury loose and risen to defend them. He had saved lives, and returned some that were lost, but even so…</p><p>Talion let the wind whip his hood back as Fëanor took them above the clouds, just high enough to where her wings wouldn't disturb the cloudbank below when she beat them, wouldn't give away their position to anyone watching from below. There was no moon tonight - he could see the void where Isil hung unlit by Anar’s brilliance - so the sky was a tapestry of stars, a river of them, rolling slowly overhead, laced through with dark clouds.</p><p>He had always preferred the night to the day, even before taking up Isildur’s ring.</p><p>The damned thing caught his whisper of a thought in its direction and started a slow seep of power, but he quashed it before anything could come of it. It had done enough damage - to <em>everything</em>.</p><p>Fëanor hummed softly under him, and through their bond, he felt the questioning press of her thoughts. He reassured her with a gentle scratch down her neck and looked back to the horizon.</p><p>Talion wished more than anything that they could have kept flying, sought the ends of the earth to see if Arda truly had become round after the fall of Númenor. He wanted to go west, see the homelands of the hobbits who had destroyed the One Ring, and Tol Morwen beyond, the furthest of the Western Isles. He wanted to fly east and south, and seek the lands of the Easterlings and Haradrim who came to trade in Mordor now that they were free of Sauron’s dominion. He wanted to walk the shores of whatever remained of the Sea of Helcar and see Cuiviénen, where the Elves woke in the years of the Two Trees, and Hildórien nearby, where the Men woke with the rising of the sun and moon. He wanted to see different stars wheeling overhead and the legendary walls of the sun, if they yet stood, and if it really was possible to fly so far east that he would come back around in the west.</p><p>But he was not the kind of Man who ran away from his duty or his deeds. When the clouds fell away below, revealing the winding silver line of the Anduin and the white walls of Minas Tirith in the distance, Talion gave Fëanor a nudge, and she angled her wings, bringing them around in a wide loop to point back in the direction of Núrn.</p><p>As they passed back over the Ephel Dúath, the Ringwraith swore he felt a flicker of necromantic power out in Gorgoroth, enough that it made him pause. He directed Fëanor down through the cloudbank to settle on one of the peaks to rest her wings, then jumped down from her back and walked to the edge of the cliff to peer out into the darkness.</p><p>Whether it was because of Isildur’s Ring or because he was halfway into the Unseen World, he didn’t know, but he could see in the dark as if it was bright sunlight from back when he was purely a Man. Yet as he scanned the distant plateau, he saw nothing, and the brief burst of energy was gone just as fast as it had come. Maybe it had been one of the Mystic Tribe who didn't take well to Talion’s leadership. When Akhôrahil and Helm were dealt with, he would take care of them, too.</p><p>He let Fëanor rest for another few minutes, then swung back up into the saddle and sent them back into the sky.</p><hr/><p>“When did the Boss turn into this angsty little punk?”</p><p>“I didn’t know you knew the word ‘angsty’, Ratbag,” said Baranor, looking up from his ale.</p><p>“Ya learn somethin’ new everyday! But that don’t answer my question.”</p><p>“They’re his <em>family</em>, dumbass,” Idril replied with a roll of her eyes.</p><p>“What, and we aren't?”</p><p>“I mean by <em>blood</em>. We’ve known him mostly as one of the Nine, so we don't have a problem with all his Ringwraith powers. <em>They</em> knew him as a <em>Man</em>, so they have certain expectations of him. Being Lord of Mordor and all that that entails - including being one of Arda’s most powerful necromancers - doesn’t really factor into that.”</p><p>“...Well that’s just stupid. I mean, did they really think he was just gonna show back up exactly the way he was when he disappeared? They gotta meet him where he <em>is</em>, not where they <em>want </em>him to be.”</p><p>“Agreed, but it’s not always that simple. The Nazgûl were nameless, faceless horrors - not their husband or father - and Mordor and its occupants have been the enemy, not distant Gondorian kin, let alone orcish allies or friends. This will be an adjustment period for all of them.”</p><p>“And us, too,” Baranor added, “We have always been allies of Gondor, but I find I’m not exactly eager to return to Minas Tirith and its rules and restrictions. And we do not know what terms the West might try to impose on Mordor when we try to make peace, or if whatever family we Gondorians have left in the White City will seek to force us to return. From what little we’ve heard, this new king seems a good man, but I at least would rather live under Talion’s rule. Him, I know and trust.”</p><p>“Agreed.”</p><p>“Well I know for a fact that the Boss ain’t gonna kick you out, an’ he’ll probably fight anyone an’ everyone who tries to make ya leave, so I don’t think ya need to be worryin’ about that.”</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Fourteen: The Towers Cast Long Shadows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Fourteen: The Towers Cast Long Shadows</h1><hr/><p>Aragorn was standing out on the deck looking out over Eagle Bay when Talion returned. It was still dark, but the streets were lit by braziers on tall poles, kept well away from the houses just in case the flames tried to make a leap in the sea breeze, and patrols went around to each one every hour or so to make sure they were still lit and not setting fire to the city. There was still a surprising amount of activity after dark, and the king watched as the people of Mordor all went about their lives in relative peace.</p><p><em>Relative</em>. Most of them still were <em>orcs</em>, which were not by nature a peaceful people. Some fights broke out in dark alleys away from the main thoroughfares, and he thought he saw a few taverns throwing other late-night brawlers into the streets.</p><p>Then there were wingbeats overhead, and Aragorn quickly moved to the side, giving Fëanor enough room to land on the deck. She did so easily, angled away so that the draft from her wings didn't knock him over, but then her head snaked around so she could sniff him suspiciously while Talion jumped down from her back. </p><p>The drake seemed satisfied after a moment, but the Ringwraith was not. He examined the other Man for several long, silent minutes, burning eyes glowing in the dark. Finally he said, <strong>“Who are you <em>really?</em>”</strong></p><p>“What makes you ask that?” Aragorn asked only partially to deflect. But he was also genuinely curious as to what caught the Nazgûl’s attention.</p><p><strong>“You have the look of someone I knew once,”</strong> Talion answered, <strong>“but I would know who <em>you</em> are before I reveal <em>them</em>, if indeed I should. I would much rather the secrets of the dead stayed in their graves, even if the dead themselves do not.”</strong></p><p>“In that we are in agreement,” the king said. Then he hesitated. “I am afraid I must swear you to secrecy first. It would not do for word of me to fall on the wrong ears.”</p><p>
  <strong>“Fair enough. You have my word that I will not speak of you to anyone, for whatever it may be worth to you.”</strong>
</p><p>“Much indeed, for you have not given us a reason to mistrust you,” the Man said. Then he took a step closer and lowered his voice. “I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn.”</p><p><strong>“Heir of Isildur and King of Gondor,”</strong> the Nazgûl finished, equally low, face grim, <strong>“Yes indeed. You have his look. The resemblance is uncanny, even for me, and I have seen and done <em>many </em>uncanny things.”</strong></p><p>Aragorn drew back a little in surprise. “You have seen…?”</p><p>A smile pulled Talion’s pale lips up, but there was no mirth in his eyes. He briefly reached over to loosen Fëanor’s bridle, letting her stretch her jaws and hunt if she wished, then tilted his head towards the Sea Cave. <strong>“Come,”</strong> he said, <strong>“This is not a conversation we should have without drinks in hand.”</strong></p><hr/><p>The Ringwraith had rooms set aside for him, though it was obvious from the plainness of them that they were not frequently used. All of the furniture was perfectly matched, untouched, the walls blank and white. The only hint that the Ringwraith lived there on occasion was a ball of beautiful blue yarn and two long wooden needles, one of which had the beginnings of some kind of knitwork on it. </p><p>Talion noticed him looking. <strong>“Caragor fur is surprisingly soft once it’s been cleaned and spun,”</strong> he said, opening a cabinet and pulling out a tall, finely painted clay bottle and two matching cups, <strong>“The beastmasters who tend them have gifted me with skeins of it, on occasion. One of the Gondorians who survived the siege, Reviriel, noticed I had it lying around and taught me how to make use of it. And recently some of the Haradrim have been kind enough to dye it other colors for me.”</strong></p><p>“An unusual skill for a Ringwraith.”</p><p><strong>“Indeed. But also a useful one. If I am alone too long with my thoughts…”</strong> His burning eyes drifted down to his hand, where his Ring sat, silent but heavy. It did not quite weigh on the world quite the same way the One Ring had during the Fellowship’s journey, but it still made its presence known. He shuddered and looked away.</p><p>“It speaks to you even now?”</p><p>
  <strong>“Always. I wish that I could do away with it, but it is all that holds me to this earth, and my time has not yet come. Not until the other Nazgûl are dead in the very least, but more likely until Mordor has no more need of me and no fear of the West coming to put an end to them.”</strong>
</p><p>“We will need to negotiate a true peace at some later time,” said Aragorn, taking one of the seats in the sitting area the Nazgûl waved him to, “but I see no reason to continue this war when all it has brought is suffering on all sides. Let it die with Sauron.”</p><p><strong>“Agreed.”</strong> Talion unlatched his plate armor but left on his mail, putting the plate on its stand in a corner. Then he came over with the bottle and sank into the chair across from Aragorn. He sighed. <strong>“The story I have to tell you is far from whole, and even further from pleasant,”</strong> he said, pouring a measure for each of them, <strong>“but so far as I am aware, it is the truth. Or at least the one who told it was unable to lie to me. This wine is called <em>saké</em>, and it’s made from a grain called <em>rice</em>, which the Easterlings grow for food the way Gondor does millet and wheat. It may seem delicate when you first taste it, but it’s a little stronger than most wine found in the West, so take your time with it.”</strong></p><p>Aragorn nodded and accepted the cup, taking a sip. He was content to let the Ringwraith speak in his own time and instead admired the delicately painted flowers and birds on the ceramics, unlike anything he had ever seen. He briefly wondered if they were real.</p><p>Talion took a slow sip of his own wine, then sighed. <strong>“History tells us,”</strong> he said, <strong>“that during the War of the Last Alliance, Isildur cut the One Ring from Sauron’s hand in the shadow of Barad-dûr, using the broken blade of Narsil - now the sword at your waist, if I’m not mistaken.”</strong></p><p>“You are not,” the king answered, “The Blade That Was Broken has been reforged. Its name is <em>Andúril</em> now.”</p><p>Talion nodded and continued, <strong>“Instead of casting the Ring back into the fire from whence it came, however, he took it for his own… and it led him to his doom.”</strong></p><p>“The Disaster of the Gladden Fields,” Aragorn said grimly, “I know of it. All too well do I know.”</p><p>
  <strong>“That was not the end of him.”</strong>
</p><p>That made the king look up in surprise. Talion’s eyes were on him, but his mind was miles - and decades - away. <strong>“His body was never recovered from the Gladden Fields,”</strong> the former Ranger said, <strong>“but not because it was borne away by the Anduin. The orcs took him, and brought him to Mordor. </strong></p><p>
  <strong>“Sauron’s body had been destroyed, but because of Isildur and his refusal to destroy the One, his spirit yet remained - and met him there in Barad-dûr… with a Ring.”</strong>
</p><p>Aragorn’s blood turned to ice in his veins, and his gaze fell to the Ring on Talion’s finger. </p><p><strong>“Yes indeed,”</strong> the Ringwraith said quietly, <strong>“‘You will serve me for all eternity,’ Sauron said, and he did - for several thousand years, at least. This was his Ring, and necromancy his power. ‘In ages past, I commanded armies of Men, and now they will again follow me.’ What greater power could he have asked for, to command even the dead?”</strong></p><p>“...I see now why you said this was not a conversation for sober men,” Aragorn said, unashamed of the waver in his voice, and took another deep draught of the wine before continuing, “How then did <em>you </em>come by it?”</p><p>Talion took a drink of his own. <strong>“Opposing Sauron, of course. After he returned to Mordor and laid siege to the Black Gate, I sought revenge for the - <em>perceived</em> deaths of my family. But as Celebrimbor and I grew in strength, we also grew in threat, so he dispatched the Nazgûl to put a stop to us. </strong></p><p>
  <strong>“They failed.”</strong>
</p><p>There the other Man stopped, his gaze distant once again. Yet whatever this memory was, it seemed to cause him great pain; he looked to be both blazing with the fury of Orodruin erupting and stricken by pain, a grief as deep as the Belegaer. Aragorn recognized the conflicting emotions, had felt something similar only once before - when his mother died so many years ago, leaving him alone in a world overrun by those who sought to kill him and put an end to his bloodline.</p><p>Talion’s gaze drifted to the floor. <strong>“I fought Isildur and won, and set him free to meet whatever fate awaited him beyond the walls of Arda… but at a cost.”</strong></p><p>“His burden became yours. His <em>Ring</em> became yours,” Aragorn said, and Talion nodded.</p><p><strong>“I never wanted it,”</strong> he said, wrath falling away as the grief came to the fore, <strong>“It was the <em>last</em> thing I wanted.”</strong> Then he took a deep breath and steadied himself. <strong>“But Shelob foresaw the need for a counterbalance here in Mordor, to buy time for the West to rally. I did what I had to.”</strong> He threw back his wine, then poured himself another cup and topped off the king’s.</p><p>“You were friendly with Shelob?”</p><p><strong>“Aye. She was not nearly so treacherous as some-”</strong> That seemed rather pointed, but Aragorn had no idea who he was referring to. <strong>“-and she let us use her tunnels frequently. She and her brood also made a <em>killing</em> selling their spidersilk for spinning and weaving. Not a small number were greatly saddened to see her go.”</strong></p><p>“Did you hold a funeral for her?”</p><p>The Ringwraith snorted. <strong>“A <em>funeral</em>? Hardly. She’s not <em>dead</em>, though she was gravely wounded by whatever blade the halfling used on her when she drove him out of her tunnels. No, she has simply departed Mordor, gone to seek out other lands where the shadows still hold sway. Though she hated Sauron more fiercely than anyone I have ever met, his presence in Mordor was what kept the Mountains of Shadow safe for her and her brood, and his orcs kept them fed. With him gone, it was time for her to leave also.”</strong></p><p>Aragorn hummed and took another sip of the wine. Its flavor was indeed more subtle than the wines he was more familiar with, especially the famed Dorwinion vintages, but the warmth and intoxication were much the same. That was the only excuse he could offer for why he said what he did. “There is more to your own tale than Idril has told us, I see, but I understand if you do not wish to tell it to me. I <em>do </em>think that you should tell your family, though.”</p><p><strong>“They would not understand,”</strong> Talion said quietly, looking out to where the dawn was just beginning to lighten the horizon, <strong>“or Ioreth wouldn’t at least. She never wanted to fight, and always sought ways for us to leave the Black Gate after we had been banished there.”</strong></p><p>“I think if you tell her, she might surprise you. You are not the only one the years have changed.”</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Fifteen: The Fate of a Sword</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Fifteen: The Fate of a Sword</h1><hr/><p>Ioreth rose with the sun, though she had slept only a little the night before. Breakfast was simple but filling, and Idril and Lithariel carried most of the conversation between them while Ratbag chattered eagerly with a massive Olog about the construction (and reconstruction) that they were going to be helping with that day.</p><p>When they were done, Ioreth told Dirhael that she wanted to practice with him, having noticed during the fighting that while she could hold her own, she was still not quite up to taking on nearly as many orcs as the others could and had soon exhausted herself. If Talion hadn’t shown up when he did, she would have been forced to quit the field before she grew too weary to continue fighting and got herself killed. </p><p>Not an option. Not now.</p><p>She collected her sword and went to the rear deck, but Talion had preceded them - or otherwise hadn't slept at all. Once again, he was sitting with Fëanor, this time under one of the fruit trees there behind the Sea Cave, the drake’s egg cradled in blankets on his lap as he watched the slow roll of the sea. He winced a little and squinted when Anar’s light reflected wrong off the water and hit his eyes dead on, concealed in the shadows of his deep hood.</p><p>Only then did she recognize that though it had changed <em>greatly</em>, his cloak was the very same one she had given him for their first wedding anniversary.</p><p><em>That</em> gave her pause.</p><p>Perhaps… perhaps things weren't nearly as dire as she thought.</p><p>Talion looked up and then away when she approached, burning eyes dropping to the egg in his lap. Now that she had drawn near, she could see the glow of his Ring as its magic threaded through the shell and the albumen within, reshaping the young drake before it had even formed. She wasn't sure what to say to that, so she said nothing, only sat next to her husband and waited for Dirhael.</p><p>(It felt like someone was missing. There should have been someone in the hole on Talion’s other side - someone not their son.)</p><p>Their son wasn't alone when he emerged; Idril was with him, and Baranor and Lithariel, with the first carrying two strange metal-and-cloth contraptions. When she unfolded them, they revealed themselves to be portable chairs, which she set down in the shade of the tree for the other two. They sat gratefully, and each shared a brief but warm embrace before Idril sat down as well, joining them on the grass. Dirhael sat next to Ioreth, and they formed a half-circle in front of Talion, though by unspoken accord they still left the space on his other side empty save for Fëanor.</p><p>They were joined by Aragorn and Arwen, and Faramir and Éowyn as well, and an Elf, a dark-haired Ñoldor with fiery blue eyes, who sat outside the circle up against the trunk of the tree, but still unmistakably part of the group.</p><p>After a moment, Talion let out a long breath, and then began to speak. <strong>“Three thousand years ago, during the War of the Last Alliance at the end of the Second Age, Isildur son of Elendil cut the One Ring from Sauron’s hand, and did not destroy it. And so though his armies were scattered by the forces of Elves and Men, Sauron’s spirit endured.</strong></p><p>
  <strong>“Seventy years ago, he returned to Mordor, and shadow and flame fell on the Black Gate.”</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>“We’ll be together soon, my love. Forever!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A sacrifice of blood and bone. A bridge for you to follow. You will emerge a shadow.</em>
</p><p>Talion could still taste the blood on his tongue from when his neck had been cut, could feel it spilling down his chest but also back down his throat and into his lungs. He didn’t tell the others, didn’t describe it in any detail, but he did tell them that he had fought Sauron’s orcs - and suffered for it.</p><p><strong>“I died like all the others,”</strong> he said quietly, <strong>“but unlike them, I did not <em>stay dead</em>. I was not yet gone when Celebrimbor emerged, and so he was able to possess <em>me</em> instead of the Black Hand.</strong></p><p>
  <strong>“So I died, and came back. Then, and every time since.”</strong>
</p><p>No one else moved or spoke.</p><p>
  <strong>“Celebrimbor didn’t remember who he was or what he had done - not right away, at least. The long years in the dark of Mordor were no kinder to him than they were to me, but even so he helped me seek out Sauron’s captains for revenge. In turn I gave him presence in the seen world and sought artifacts from his past, which carried his memories within. </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“He was not slain when Eregion fell in the Second Age. Sauron… worked some fell art on him, stole his mind and his will, and used his skill to perfect the One Ring. But Sauron was prideful - he didn’t think any being save his own Master was strong enough to defy his will - and that arrogance gave Celebrimbor an opening to escape. He took the One Ring, used it against Sauron for as long as he could, trying to throw the Dark Lord down - vengeance for his murdered family and subjects.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“But the Ring sought to return to its Master. And it did, and Sauron beat Celebrimbor to death with his own hammer and then bound his <em>fëa </em>to wander here in Mordor for all eternity, to never find the path to the Far West.”</strong>
</p><p>That made everyone straighten, faces pale with horror, Arwen and the Ñoldor - Swinsere - most of all. It was worse even than Talion’s own necromancy, for while he called the dead back from their rest, he truly resurrected only those who answered his call. While his mind was his own, he had never brought back anyone against their will.</p><p>
  <strong>“The One Ring was lost in the Disaster at the Gladden Fields, and so when Sauron regained strength enough to return to Middle-earth, he began seeking a means to restore himself to power. A New Ring. At last, he remembered the Ringmaker and sent his captains to pull him out of the dark.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“They failed. Together Celebrimbor and I raised an army of our own to fight his and took down all three of them… and he offered to release me. But I wasn’t satisfied. I had seen - as now no doubt <em>you</em> have seen - that like Men and Elves, there were those orcs who <em>didn’t fit</em>. Those who would forsake the dark, if only they had the chance, and someone to show them the way. We had given it to them, but it was new and fragile, all too easily shattered if we chose rest and abandoned them. And we had dealt damage to Sauron as well; civil wars have ground greater nations to splinters before. If we could but continue, wear away at his forces, buy time for the West to rise…</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“So I said to him, ‘Could you really rest for all eternity, knowing that you had the chance to stop him - but did nothing?’”</strong>
</p><p>Talion let his eyes drift shut, remembering the unreadable expression on the Elf-wraith’s face before he’d vanished, leaving the Man to look out over the desolate Plateau of Gorgoroth towards Mount Doom, erupting in the distance. <strong>“We had already been taxed to the limits of our strength. If we were to continue, we needed another means of power.</strong></p><p>
  <strong>“<em>Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne, In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them, In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“And one more. The New Ring Sauron sought, made for <em>us</em> instead, to give us the power to beat him back.”</strong>
</p><p>That caused a stir only amongst the newcomers; Idril, Baranor, Lithariel, and Swinsere had already known, had <em>seen</em> it before on the hand of another.</p><p>
  <strong>“Shelob involved herself then. She has some… not insignificant ability to see the future. There were things that she saw that she sought to change, and so to that end she stole Celebrimbor away, and I traded the New Ring for him.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“She sent us to Minas Ithil, not yet fallen, where we aided the defenders as best we could. But Castamir was already a traitor and the city doomed to fall no matter how hard we fought. And we did fight hard, pursuing assassins and warchiefs… and finally the Nazgûl themselves to give time for the survivors to flee.”</strong>
</p><p>There he looked up to Idril and Baranor with a soft, slight smile. His adopted daughter made a gesture of respect and gratitude, which he returned. </p><p><strong>“We defeated the other Ringwraiths and went to face the Witch-King himself,”</strong> he continued,<strong> “He was too much for us - <em>far</em> too much - and tried to corrupt me into one of his servants then and there. It was then that we met the Elf-Blade Eltariel, sent by one ‘Galadriel of Lothlórien’ to do to the Nazgûl what we sought to do to Sauron. She killed me to get me out of the Witch-King’s reach, and to her credit, that was one of the least painful deaths I have ever endured.</strong></p><p>
  <strong>“When we returned… Sauron had discovered the New Ring, and sent the Nazgûl to take it from Shelob. We went with Eltariel to defend her, drove off the wraiths, and she returned the Ring to us.</strong>
</p><p><strong>“And then we went to work. We strengthened our armies, took everyone willing to join us - and many who weren't.”</strong> His eyes drifted to his Ring, which glowed only faintly in the daylight. <strong>“And region by region, we took Mordor from Sauron, hemmed him in and whittled away at his armies, trying to keep him from ever mustering the forces to attack the West. If not forever, then at least for a day.</strong></p><p><strong>“But Celebrimbor started slipping. I don’t know what caused it, though I <em>do </em>know there are a couple of things it could have been, each worse than the last.”</strong> He pressed his lips into a grim line. <strong>“There were orcs among our numbers who were trusted, something like friends, like Ratbag and Az-Harto Hammerfist - that is, the Olog Ratbag calls ‘Ranger’. He stopped caring about them, about the Men and orcs alike we rescued from Sauron, about the settlements we built where they could live in relative peace. He stopped wanting to rescue them at all, only wanting to grind Sauron and the Ringwraiths to dust under our heel and driving our forces ahead to that end.</strong></p><p><strong>“I did not agree… but neither did I protest. Not until-.”</strong> He stopped and drew an unsteady breath. <strong>“Not until the bridge.</strong></p><p>
  <strong>“We took all of Mordor from him - Minas Ithil was lost, now Minas Morgul, but we had Cirith Ungol, Núrn, Lithlad, Seregost, and Gorgoroth all… and then, together with our armies, Celebrimbor, Eltariel, and I marched on Barad-dûr.”</strong>
</p><p>Everyone was silent, nearly holding their breath. Talion fisted his hands in the blankets cushioning Fëanor’s egg and forced himself to continue even as ash-grey tears began to fall. <strong>“Sauron sent all his remaining forces in an attempt to stop us, but they fared no better than any before them. And then the Ringwraiths started coming. Just one at first.”</strong></p><p>He looked up to meet Aragorn’s gaze. The other Ranger nodded just once.</p><p>
  <strong>“It was Isildur.”</strong>
</p><p>The king was the only one who didn’t gasp. The others had known that the Ringwraiths were fallen kings of Men, but to know their <em>names </em>was something entirely different, entirely new, even for those who had fought alongside Talion for decades. And <em>this</em>, to know that one of them had been a Man of legend who had stood and opposed Sauron in life? Impossible.</p><p>But no one protested, only listened as Talion continued. <strong>“Celebrimbor and I beat him, and when we had him at our mercy, I saw into his soul. The One Ring had worn him down, made him vulnerable to Sauron’s predations, even in death. The orcs took his body from the Gladden Fields, brought it to Barad-dûr… and there Sauron put a Ring on his finger and called him back from death and into his service.</strong></p><p>
  <strong>“And there Celebrimbor and I disagreed. He wanted to start taking the Ringwraiths for our own as well, in addition to the orcs and creatures of Mordor, and <em>that </em>I could not allow. I had seen in both Isildur’s soul and a few others’ how Sauron had bound them to him unwilling, forced them to serve him… and I saw us well on our way to becoming the very same monster we sought to defeat.</strong>
</p><p><strong>“So I released him instead, to meet whatever fate awaited him beyond the circles of this world.” </strong>He let his eyes fall shut again. <strong>“Celebrimbor disagreed - with that, and with merely <em>defeating</em> Sauron. ‘I will <em>dominate </em>Sauron; his armies will be <em>mine</em>.’”</strong></p><p>His jaw went tight. <strong>“I reminded him that we were meant to <em>destroy</em> Sauron, but he returned that Sauron cannot be destroyed, and Eltariel agreed with him. ‘We fight and fight, and evil always returns. We can end this here.’</strong></p><p>
  <strong>“‘I will not trade one Dark Lord for another. This is not the end I have fought for.’</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“‘But you are not the only one fighting.’</strong>
</p><p><strong>“‘No, he is not.’ Then Celebrimbor offered Eltariel the New Ring, and she took it, and him with it. With nothing - and no one - keeping me whole, I started to bleed out again.”</strong> He touched the scar on his throat, just visible over his armor.<strong> “And then they left me on the bridge to die.”</strong></p><p>It seemed like the whole world had fallen silent. Even the sea breeze coming off the water had gone still.</p><p>Talion moved suddenly, one hand flying over to cover the other - to cover the <em>Ring</em>, to smother it before it could rise, even as he fought to master himself and the rage and grief that warred inside. It took him several long minutes before he was able to speak again. <strong>“Then Shelob came to me in the wraith world - the unseen world. ‘See the future you have wrought,’ I said to her, ‘A Bright Lord instead of a dark one.’</strong></p><p>
  <strong>“‘You pitiful Man. I gave you sight and yet you still do not see.’</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“‘You showed me a fate I could not change!’</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“‘<em>You are wrong,’</em> she replied. ‘When you and Celebrimbor forged a new Ring of Power, I saw where your path ended - locked in battle against Sauron at the top of Barad-dûr… and you <em>won</em>. Sauron was enslaved, and the Bright Lord rose in his place. The armies of Mordor marched forth under his banner, and Middle-earth fell under his heel.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“‘<em>That</em> is the future I fought against. The future you prevented, because you saw Celebrimbor for what he was.’ I wanted to deny it, but I knew she was telling the truth.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“But then she said, ‘Your war is not yet ended, Talion. Whether a Bright Lord or a Dark Lord rules Barad-dûr, the balance of power must be maintained, or all of Middle-earth will fall.’</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“‘Minas Morgul.’</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“‘Yes. From there, Mordor can be held back.’</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“‘How? The Ring is gone.’</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“‘I asked you once, how much are you willing to sacrifice?’”</strong>
</p><p>His hands went tight, so tight that his armor audibly groaned.</p><p>
  <strong>“So I opened my eyes, and I took up Isildur’s Ring.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“Minas Morgul was still held by the Witch-King and the other Ringwraiths, but not for long. I took it from them, and I watched Celebrimbor and Eltariel’s battle with Sauron through the Palantír. They came so very close… but at the last second, Sauron cut the New Ring from Eltariel’s hand, and severed her bond with Celebrimbor.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“I don't know what Sauron intended - probably to try what he did through the Black Hand, to bind Celebrimbor’s soul to his own and return to the world at full power, even without the One. But this time he failed, and instead they were bound together in the Great Eye.”</strong>
</p><p>Despite the harshness of his armor, he wiped away his tears with a gauntleted hand, then continued, <strong>“For a long time I wasn’t sure if Eltariel was still alive, if the Eye had ordered her captured and imprisoned somewhere in the Dark Tower, and I wasn't willing to risk anyone trying to find out. But eventually she recovered enough to reclaim the New Ring, and escaped and sought me out. Though she did not regret fighting Sauron, she <em>did</em> repent of leaving me to die. </strong></p><p>
  <strong>“Since that day, I stood and fought as long as I could… but eventually I too Fell. Being a true Nazgûl was like being a puppet - I could somewhat see what was happening around me, like through a dark veil or deep underwater, but I couldn’t control my body or even muster up the will to care.</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>“I was finally released when the One was destroyed, but I was too weak to do much more than get myself away from Mount Doom while it was erupting. And later, Ratbag found me.”</strong>
</p><p>His drake huffed.</p><p>
  <strong>“Sorry, <em>Fëanor</em> and Ratbag found me.”</strong>
</p><p>She purred and nuzzled him.</p><p>“You never <em>said</em>,” Idril whispered, “about Celebrimbor. All these years you never protested when people said he was <em>lost</em> or <em>stolen</em>…”</p><p>
  <strong>“Because he may very well have been.”</strong>
</p><p>“What do you mean?” Ioreth asked with a frown.</p><p>
  <strong>“Am I my Ring?”</strong>
</p><p>It was Aragorn who understood first. “You think the New Ring influenced him? Twisted him?”</p><p>
  <strong>“It was made in Mount Doom, same as the One Ring. It certainly couldn't have been as <em>pure</em> as he seemed to think. And he poured so much of himself into its making that I wouldn't be surprised if it made him vulnerable to even the slightest bit of corruption inside it, or even from Sauron directly; he is several years gone now, but his influence still lies heavy over the land.</strong>
</p><p><strong>“And…”</strong> Talion looked to Swinsere. <strong>“Though the stories say he repudiated his father and uncles for their kinslayings, Celebrimbor was still a member of the House of Fëanor, and therefore subject to the Doom of Mandos. </strong></p><p>
  <strong>“<em>To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well.</em>”</strong>
</p><p>The Ringwraith was quiet for a long moment, absently rubbing a thumb over the shell of the egg still in his lap. Finally he said, <strong>“I <em>am</em> still angry. <em>Furious</em>. Enough that I would have torn down Barad-dûr stone by stone with only my hands if that was what it took to be avenged. <em>Never</em> doubt that. But Eltariel repented, and I had no way of knowing if Celebrimbor would have done the same if he had been given the chance - and this Ring <em>did </em>and <em>does </em>feed off anger and hatred and cruelty. It did not need more fuel for the fire. I will wait to pass judgement, even until the Last Battle and the Day of Doom and the coming of the Second Music, if that’s how long it takes.”</strong></p><p>They were all silent for several minutes, thinking on all they had been told, before Arwen frowned and turned to Swinsere. “You are bound in the Doom of Mandos as well?”</p><p>“I am,” he answered grimly, “Here I am known as <em>Swinsere</em>, ‘Minstrel’, but my true name is <em>Maglor Feanorion</em>.”</p><p>Arwen gasped. “<em>Grandfather?!”</em></p><hr/><p>
  <em>With a sigh you turn away,<br/>With a deepening heart,<br/>No more words to say.<br/>You will find <br/>That the world has changed <br/>Forever...</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Sixteen: The Last Mortal Bond</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Sixteen: The Last Mortal Bond</h1><hr/><p>Ioreth dreamed again that night.</p><p>
  <em>Talion was somewhere in Núrn, stretched out in a vast field of long grass looking up at the night sky overhead. All the stars were bright and clear as they had never been save in the wilds, with Varda’s Path of clouds and stars leading from east to west across the sky.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But Talion wasn't alone. He had never been alone in those early years, but this was the first time she had actually seen his companion.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Celebrimbor was a ghostly, blue-white figure perched on a nearby rock, also looking up at the stars. Though he was withered and worn by long years in Mordor, Ioreth could still see the beauty and grace of the Elves in him, even though he was simply sitting, unmoving. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Have the constellations changed at all since your younger years?” Talion was asking him.</em>
</p><p><em>“Greatly,” the Elven smith replied with a slight smile, looking down at the Man even as Talion tilted his head back to look up at him, “I was still a child when we arrived in Beleriand, now sunken beneath the Great Sea, and I remember thinking that there were more stars here, and that they were somehow </em>better<em> than those of Valinor. Here they seem </em>closer<em>, more </em>real<em>, as if the light we saw in the Far West was only a pale echo of what reached Middle-earth. It may very well be that that is the truth; during the Years of the Two Trees, the stars were but specks trying to rival their light.</em></p><p>
  <em>“There are some that I recognize, though. There is Menelmacar, the Swordsman of the Heavens,” he said, pointing towards the western horizon, then moving his finger north, “and there is the Valacirca, the Sickle of the Valar, which Varda put in the sky as a warning of Morgoth’s downfall. In Beleriand at this time of year, they would have been directly overhead, rather than on the horizon, but now I also see constellations that I only knew from legends.” He turned to point east. “There is Soronúmë, the Eagle of the West who flees the returning sun every night, and above him is Wilwarin, the Butterfly he chases, and there in the distance, where the Ephel Dúath comes down to meet the land? The star just north, almost level with the tops of the grass?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Talion propped himself up on an elbow to follow the ghostly hand. “I see it.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That is the very edge of Anarrima, the Sun-Border. If you travel far enough east that it is directly overhead, that marks the place where the Walls of the Sun once stood, back before the world was made round.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Wow,” Talion breathed, but he wasn’t looking at the stars anymore. “The Swordsman and the Sickle I know, but I’ve never heard of the others. How do you know so much?”</em>
</p><p><em>Celebrimbor shot him an amused look, though there was nothing cruel about it. “I </em>was<em> a lord, you know. My grandfather Fëanor was High King of the Ñoldor in Middle-earth while he lived, and in the Second Age, I ruled Eregion together with the Gwaith-i-Mírdain for more than three hundred years. And I have not a few years on you, Talion.”</em></p><p>
  <em>“True enough.” The Man laid back down with his arms folded behind his head. “Still, it’s one thing to know it. It’s another to see evidence of it with my own eyes - or rather hear it with my own ears.”</em>
</p><p><em>The Elf hummed, looking off into the distance. “Well, you are certainly better company than many I’ve spent longer years with, even among those I counted close friends. Among my fellow Jewel-smiths, that was Arcamo, who sought to make a necklace finer than the Nauglamír of old, which together with a Silmaril led to the doom of Doriath in the First Age. Yet he was engaged in an endless contest to get the better of Tinwedil, a fellow craftsman, which made them </em>both <em><span class="u">insufferable</span> more often than not. I can’t quite recall who was quote-unquote ‘on top’ when Sauron came.”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Well you won’t need to worry about that here,” Talion replied, closing his eyes and settling in to sleep, “It’s just the two of us.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Celebrimbor looked down at him and smiled warmly. “Indeed.”</em>
</p><hr/><p>She woke before sunrise, and found Talion still where he had been sitting yesterday, under the fruit tree with Fëanor’s egg in his lap. He seemed to have finished whatever he was doing to it, because the Ring’s glow was only a dim speck in the predawn darkness.</p><p>Ioreth sat down next to him and spread the blanket she’d brought over them both. Talion raised an eyebrow but said nothing, only shifted so she could lean more comfortably against his side as they watched the sun come up, turning the grass and water to golden waves.</p><p>Finally, she asked, “Were you in love with him?”</p><p>Talion jolted under her. <strong>“What? What makes you ask that?”</strong></p><p>“I know you; that’s what.” She also knew <em>exactly </em>what had made his father so cruel towards him; enjoying intimate relations with other men hadn't been looked well upon in Minas Tirith, let alone men <em>and</em> women. And now Elves, apparently.</p><p>He looked away guiltily, a grey blush on his cheeks, which was answer enough. <strong>“I think I could have been,” </strong>he whispered, <strong>“You don’t spend nearly a decade sharing your soul with someone without feeling <em>something</em> for them, but…”</strong></p><p>“He was good to you? Before - the bridge?”</p><p>Talion flinched automatically at the mention of the Elven smith’s betrayal, then nodded slowly. <strong>“He was - tough at first. But it was what I needed to stop from losing myself to grief. After that… it was so easy - at least when we were fighting Sauron and his armies. It was like we’d known each other all our lives, and we were faster, stronger, <em>better </em>together than we ever were apart, even with the New Ring. I talked to Swinsere - that is, Maglor - about it after he arrived, and he said that it was rare but not unheard of amongst the Eldar. That there were Elves who just - <em>fit together</em>, like they had once been one being but were born as two. They <em>harmonized</em>, and were better together than apart.”</strong></p><p>“‘At least when you were fighting Sauron’?”</p><p>
  <strong>“A few people pointed out that both of us had a hard time knowing when we needed to stop and rest, let ourselves recover before we kept moving forward. There were more than a few times we ended up running ourselves into the ground on accident.”</strong>
</p><p>“Mm. Sounds like you back on the Gate.”</p><p>
  <strong>“It does <em>not</em>.”</strong>
</p><p>“Do the words ‘back-to-back week-long hunts on only a few hours of sleep’ mean anything to you?” </p><p>Talion grumbled under his breath, and Ioreth smirked, then sighed. “I wish I could have been there for you - <em>both</em> of you. With my Númenórean blood, sometimes I dreamed things that were happening here - or that I <em>assume </em>happened - but it never occurred to me that it was <em>real</em>. If I had known-”</p><p><strong>“What happened, happened,”</strong> Talion said softly, leaning his head against her own, <strong>“It is the past, and cannot be changed. All we can do now is learn from our mistakes, and keep moving forward.”</strong></p><hr/><p>When they returned to the Sea Cave, there was a messenger from the Moonshadow Citadel. “The other Wraiths have raised an army of the dead in Gorgoroth,” the Uruk, Hûra of the Terror Tribe, told them, weary and grim, “There’re too many of ‘em to count now, and they're heading south for the Gap. They'll be at the tower in a few days, if they don’t try to hit Cirith Ungol first.”</p><p>Talion immediately sent word out at once to rally everyone they could to prepare to defend themselves and their lands, then questioned the Uruk more closely. <strong>“It’s been two years since Gorgoroth fell in; the dead can’t be much more than <em>skeletons</em>, if that.”</strong></p><p>“Aye, but it’s the ghosts that are the problem. There’re so many of ‘em that they look like a solid wall of fog coming on, from east to west.”</p><p>“Their attack from a few days ago must have been to see how you called back the dead,” Idril realized with mounting horror, “to <em>learn</em>, and see if they could do the same.”</p><p>Talion cursed lowly in a dialect of Black Speech, fists clenched on his desk.</p><p>“How did you defeat the other Ringwraiths?” Aragorn asked, knowing that it was already too late to send for aid from Gondor.</p><p>
  <strong>“Caught them alone. Because of how long I wore my Ring before I fell, its power has saturated me more than their Rings had them. I’m stronger than all the others individually save the Witch-King, but I’m <em>not </em>strong enough to take on two at once.”</strong>
</p><p>They all discussed options for how they could bait away one of the Ringwraiths while Talion fought the other, Éowyn even offering to do battle against them as she had the Witch-King until Arwen frowned thoughtfully and stepped forward. “I know much of your power comes from your Ring,” she said to the Man, “and it was thought that in turn the Nine got their power from the One and would be destroyed together with it.”</p><p><strong>“That was my thought as well. I felt it when the One was cast into the fire.”</strong> Talion looked down at the golden band. <strong>“I felt it falter, and my throat opened, but somehow it caught on something new and endured, which let me escape the eruption.”</strong></p><p>“<em>Something new - like the New Ring?</em>”</p><p>Everyone froze. Then Talion vaulted over his desk and burst out into the main hall. <strong>“Where is Eltariel?! Has anyone seen her at all since Sauron’s defeat?!”</strong></p><p>“The scary Elf lady?” Ratbag asked, “She left, din’t she? Said there wasn’t a chance you lived, an’ that she was goin’ back home to her Elf-forest. You sure showed her.”</p><p>“When was this?!” Idril demanded.</p><p>“Right after everythin’ went down! She said she wanted ta get out before the tribes got organized and started fightin’ again!”</p><p>“By Eru, what in Mordor is wrong with you, why didn’t you tell us she was gone?!”</p><p>“Because!”</p><p>“And don’t say <em>because nobody asked!</em>”</p><p>“But nobody <em>did</em> ask!”</p><p>“Eru damn it!”</p><p><strong>“We need to send someone to Lothlórien,”</strong> Talion said, slamming back into his rooms and digging into his desk for a map, <strong>“I <em>felt</em> the Elven Three leave Middle-earth and pass into the West, so she must still be here with the New Ring. We need to find her, and quickly.”</strong></p><p>“Not even the finest Elven horse can cover that distance in so short a time!” Arwen protested, even as Éowyn seemed about to go ready her mare.</p><p>
  <strong>“Which is why we will be sending a drake with a flag of parley; at top speed, they could be at Lothlórien in two days at the outside. If we can get word to her, Eltariel should vouch for the messenger, and hopefully she will also return to Mordor so we can use the New Ring to take down the Hammer and the Staff. If she can cut their own Rings off from its power, we might not even need to fight.”</strong>
</p><p>“Is riding a drake like riding a horse?” Ioreth asked.</p><p>
  <strong>“Similar enough that some skills transfer. Why?”</strong>
</p><p>“I will go,” she answered, “I am not so well-trained in fighting as the rest of you, and I have no doubt that you will need all of your <em>actual</em> messengers to help organize your forces to respond to this threat.”</p><p>Talion hesitated, then sighed. <strong>“Are you sure?”</strong></p><p>“Positive. Give me supplies and a map, and I will move at all speed.”</p><p>The Ringwraith sighed again, then turned to the open window. <strong>“Fëanor!”</strong></p><p>There were a few thumps and a rustle of grass. Then a red-scaled head appeared with an inquisitive “Mrr?”</p><p>
  <strong>“Head to the stables; you need to eat, and we need to change out your harness.”</strong>
</p><p>“<em>Mrrr.</em>” The head vanished, and there was a leathery flap as she headed off.</p><p>“Fëanor? You want me to take your own drake?”</p><p>
  <strong>“You don’t have an actual bond with any drakes that let them understand you in their own way, and she understands verbal commands better than any other. And I trust her, and you.”</strong>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Seventeen: A Blade from Far Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Seventeen: A Blade from Far Away</h1><hr/><p>Fëanor flew fast and far, and cleared the Black Gate by sundown. Ioreth thought that Talion hadn't been <em>completely</em> truthful when he said that riding a drake was similar to a horse, but the gear he’d given her made up for most of the difference. Her own harness attached to Fëanor’s and prevented her from flying off the drake’s back, and the headgear - a facemask and something called<em> goggles</em> made with special glass - let her see and breathe as the drake sped along, the world small and distant under them. And if any of the orc-specks on the ground far below recognized the drake matriarch, none of them signaled as much.</p><p>They also saw the army of wraiths called back by the other Nazgûl. It was even more horrific than Hûra had described; though many were whole - and also <em>not orcs</em>; the specters came from across thousands of years, and even Men from the War of the Last Alliance - the Ringwraiths had not even attempted to make the broken ones <em>whole</em> again so they could truly fight. The ghosts all looked exactly as they had when they died - no matter what state they had been in at the time. Ioreth saw more than a few wraiths that seemed to have been crushed and <em>flattened</em> by the collapse of the plateau, staggering along amongst others missing limbs or even heads, all of them surrounding a living force nearly twenty thousand strong. And the sheer <em>size</em> of the spectral army itself...</p><p>Ioreth had spurred Fëanor higher and faster, even though she herself grew lightheaded from difficulty breathing.</p><p>They landed in the Emyn Muil for the night. Though the spring was beginning to warm into summer, the stone maze was bitterly cold in the dark, and Ioreth pressed close to the drake’s warm side, sleeping lightly under one great wing. </p><p>They were back in the air shortly after sunrise, and reached the edge of Lothlórien by midday. Ioreth felt eyes on them even before Fëanor landed at the edge of the Mallorn trees, which were already beginning to falter without the magic of the Elves to hold them fast.</p><p>Ioreth looked down to unhook her own harness from the metal loops in Fëanor’s. When she looked back up, they were surrounded by Elven archers, and the drake was growling low in her throat, a heat haze between her teeth. “Please, don’t shoot!” the woman cried, hurrying to tug off her goggles and hood, “I come from Gondor, with a letter of introduction from Her Majesty Queen Arwen! The Nazgûl have survived the destruction of the One, and we seek the Elf-Blade Eltariel and her Ring of Power to throw them down!”</p><p>The Elves didn’t appear to communicate with one another, not aloud, but after a moment they all lowered their bows. Fëanor subsided and closed her mouth but still eyed the Elves warily. The one who must have been the leader stepped forward and held out a hand. “The letter?”</p><p>Ioreth pulled it out from where it had been folded inside a tightly-sealed pack and handed it over, then slid carefully down from the drake’s back.</p><p>The Elf read it quickly, then nodded and folded it back up, tucking it into his sleeve. “Your… <em>mount…</em> will have to stay here, but we will ensure that they are fed and watered and take you to Lord Celeborn at all speed.”</p><p>Ioreth nodded gratefully and touched the drake’s neck. Her head swung around to listen, though she kept her golden eyes on the archers. “<em>Stay here</em>, Fëanor. I’ll be back soon.”</p><p>The drake huffed but pulled her tail up against her side and settled down in the grass. Then Ioreth turned and followed the lead archer into the trees. The Elf led her to a small group of Elven horses, and one of their number stepped forward and sank down to let them mount up. She warily sat in front of the Elf on the horse’s bare back, but the Elven horse did not stumble or falter, bearing them swiftly through the thinning forest to what remained of Caras Galadhon. The whole realm was fading, but Ioreth could still see echoes of its once legendary beauty and power.</p><p>Once they were inside the wall, the Elf lifted her down from the back of the horse, then sprang down himself. “Wait here. I will return in a moment with Lord Celeborn.”</p><p>He vanished into the trees, but the horse remained and nuzzled her, seeming interested in the scent of the fire drake clinging to her clothes. She obliged it and held out her hands, until the Elf returned with one who seemed even more high and remote and powerful. Ioreth curtseyed as best she could and waited.</p><p>“My granddaughter’s letter says the Nine endure, and that you seek one of the Blades of the Forest, Eltariel,” Celeborn said, “You are too late. She has gone West with my royal wife.”</p><p>Ioreth let out a heavy breath. Talion had thought - but it didn't matter what anyone had <em>thought</em>. They could only work with what <em>was</em>.</p><p>“But the Ring is still here - along with the one who made it.”</p><p>That made her stop.</p><p>
  <em> The one who made it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Celebrimbor the Ringmaker. </em>
</p><p>As if summoned by her thoughts, a ghostly blue-white figure appeared next to Celeborn, armed and armored for war, though no longer withered by long years chained to the corrupted soil of Mordor. Though they had never actually seen one another before, they both knew each other by sight - by the gift of blood and memory. <em>“You are Ioreth,”</em> said the wraith, visibly stunned, <em>“wife of Talion. How are you </em>here<em>, <span class="u">alive</span>?”</em></p><p>“We were all of us deceived,” she answered him, keeping a tight grasp on all the emotion that wanted to escape at the sight of him, “He thought me dead at the Black Gate, and I thought the same of him. But regardless of your history with him, my husband has need of you and the New Ring.”</p><p>The smith seemed to dim and shrink back. In the smallest voice, both grief-stricken and hopeful, he whispered, <em>“Talion lives?”</em></p><p>“He does, but not for much longer if we don't hurry. And not just him, but <em>all</em> his people, and many more besides.”</p><p>The wraith straightened and seemed to take a deep breath, then looked to Celeborn and nodded.</p><p>The Elf lord nodded back. Then he turned to Ioreth, held out his hand, and opened it.</p><p>The New Ring did not have quite the same <em>weight</em> to it that His Majesty King Elessar had attributed to the One Ring, but now that she was aware of its presence, there was no ignoring it. It seemed to reflect every flicker of light that made it down through the leaves overhead, and the script on its length glowed bright blue in the dimness.</p><p>Ioreth hesitated for a long moment, then finally took it from Celeborn and warily slipped it on her own finger.</p><p>Its power rolled into her at once, flooding her with knowledge and strength, overwhelming her defenses. Yet a moment later she felt Celebrimbor’s cool presence slip into her and shield her from it, and the flow slowed to something more manageable. She let out a breath and felt the Elf-wraith breathe with her, felt his emotions rolling under her own. He was restless, ready to be off - and also <em>terrified out of his mind</em> to be seeing Talion again after how they had parted ways in the shadow of Barad-dûr.</p><p>Ioreth decided that they could talk on the way back to Mordor, where all their <em>private matters </em>wouldn't be aired out in front of nearly every Elf that remained in Middle-earth. She let Celebrimbor bow them properly to Celeborn, who returned the gesture slightly shallower as befitting his station of a higher lord, and then they turned and ran for Fëanor, completely passing the Elven stallion by.</p><p>She was not as strong or swift as an Elf, she knew, not as well-trained or naturally skilled, but even so they were as fleet as a deer between the trees, every step quick and steady and sure. Though he had to compensate for her smaller frame, Celebrimbor knew how to work with the flesh of Men, to lend it Elven might, and Ioreth could almost feel echoes of her husband’s soul in the Elf’s.</p><p>Fëanor perked up the moment they broke through the treeline, looking up from the gutted remains of the deer she was eating even as the archers stepped back to let them pass. The drake ripped off a hind leg and swallowed it down whole, then got to her feet even as woman and Elf jumped up into her saddle and strapped themselves in. </p><p>A few wingbeats and they were in the air again, winging back for Mordor, and through the wraith, Ioreth heard Talion’s voice from decades past echo in her ear. <em>“Celebrimbor, we’re </em>flying<em>!”</em></p><p>A smile pulled her lips up at the almost childlike wonder - before this very Elf had nearly broken him. </p><p>To his credit, he did not shrink from the first touch of her wrath, only bowed his head in shame. <em>You know.</em></p><p>
  <em> Talion told us his side of what happened. He also implied to me that the both of you had trouble knowing where to stop. </em>
</p><p>That earned a bitter laugh. <em>Yes, that certainly is one way to put it, and me </em>much <em>more than him. I come by it honestly, though; I’m sure you have heard the stories of my grandfather.</em></p><p>
  <em> Some, though the truth of them I cannot guess. </em>
</p><p><em> If they say that he was prideful beyond reason, made a very </em> unwise<em> oath on the name of the One Above All, pursued one of the mightiest of the Ainur back into Middle-earth in defiance of the Valar, and fought against nearly two dozen Balrogs which sent him to his death, all of which ended up resulting in at least three kinslayings and other </em>staggering<em> losses of life for my people, then they are true enough. Such devastation my bloodline has wrought, and though I sought to break the cycle, in the end I only continued it.</em></p><p><em> Indeed. </em> She could almost taste the Elf-wraith’s pain and self-loathing. <em>But you are more fortunate than your forebears, at least; my husband has expressed willingness to give you the benefit of the doubt.</em></p><p>
  <em> Then he is a far better person than I. But I knew that already. </em>
</p><p>There was another flicker of memory from their early days in Mordor, soon after the fall of the Black Gate. There had been a band of Uruk tormenting what they had thought were human slaves, but it was only after they had slaughtered the captain and his followers that they saw the slaves were other orcs. They had been paralyzed by fear of the Man who was already making a name for himself among Sauron’s servants, the <em>Gravewalker</em>, but rather than kill them for the very fact of their existence, he had instead cut their bonds and let them go.</p><p>Celebrimbor would have slain them without a second thought, but Talion’s mercy worked in their favor some years later. They had been <em>hunted</em> across nearly the whole of Mordor by one captain known as Golm Ranger-Killer, and he had been about to put an end to them for a third time - when someone had run him through from behind with a wicked blade, and more orcs had swarmed out of the rocks around them all to put an end to his followers.</p><p>It had been the orcs Talion had freed years prior, each now a captain in their own right - Koth Hammerfist, Torz the Beheader, Norsko of the Blackguard, Ishmoz the Deep Seer, and Dharg the Infernal. They’d pledged their loyalty to him and served as far better commanders than many of the Uruks they’d taken with the New Ring.</p><p>At least one of them Ioreth recognized, though only from glimpses during the Ringwraiths’ assault on Eagle Bay. Ishmoz was one of the leaders of the Mystic Tribe and still with Talion to this day, though he was much older and more stooped than in Celebrimbor’s memory, but he still stood strong. He had been flinging spells at the enemy with the best of them, stomping and swearing and attacking like a much younger orc.</p><p>She felt a ripple of subdued contentment from the Elf. <em>I’m glad he had</em> someone<em> with him after… after I betrayed him,</em> he said quietly, <em>I’m glad I didn’t break his faith in everyone </em>else<em> at the same time.</em></p><p>
  <em> As I told you, he’s willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. If your repentance is true- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> There is nothing in me that is truer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> -then though it will take time to fully regain his trust, I do not doubt that he will forgive you. </em>
</p><p><em> ...But </em> you<em> are a different story.</em></p><p>Her hands went tight on Fëanor’s saddle. This time she did <em>not </em>smother her wrath. <em>You </em>left<em> him.</em></p><p>
  <em> Yes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You left him, and you were what sustained his life, Celebrimbor. Did you even wait for him to die, or did you leave him there to bleed out alone?! </em>
</p><p>The Elf did not reply, but she could see the answer in his <em>fëa</em>. She could see the memory and the thoughts and emotions, the strange dual vision of the Seen and Unseen Worlds together that the Elves perceived - and Talion’s flesh looked <em>ordinary</em>, but his soul was so strong and <em>bright</em> after the long dark of Mordor. Celebrimbor had forged the New Ring, yes, poured the greater part of his power and knowledge and skill into it, but he had made it to be used by <em>Talion</em>, and so its power touched him differently, <em>deeper</em> than anyone else, even the one who made it.</p><p>His spirit was more than willing to keep going, but his flesh was weak, still wounded though it had been <em>years</em> since it had known the Black Hand’s blade. When Celebrimbor left him, Talion collapsed, blood spilling down his front, gasping for breath… but the Elf had turned away before his spirit had departed his body and slipped away.</p><p>And then he himself had failed, and spent seventy years fighting Sauron <em>fëa</em> to <em>fëa</em>, only to be set free at last when the One was destroyed. He had been barely more than a wisp of thought at that point, weaker even than when he’d first been dragged out of the dark by the Black Hand. But Eltariel had found him, or he had found her, and the New Ring had given him strength again.</p><p>And then, in her memories, he had seen what he had done.</p><p>Talion had <em>not </em>let go, and Celebrimbor saw him as Eltariel had, Seen and Unseen: a Wraith, twisted and tormented, as <em>dark </em>as he had once been <em>bright</em>, more powerful and terrible than any of the others save the Witch-King himself through the touch of both of the Rings he had worn. </p><p>Sauron had taunted him with after the Man’s Fall, paraded his <em>prize</em> before the Eye, but the Elf had thought it just another trick the Maia tried to play, and so hadn't let himself believe.</p><p>He did now.</p><p><em> I have no excuses, </em> he said, voice rich with pain and grief,<em> only reasons, and poor ones at that. I know that by all rights what I have done should be </em>beyond<em> unforgivable, and I won’t blame you if you never do for the things he endured because of me. I would give him my life if he but </em>thought<em> he wanted it - I would die willingly and forever at his hands the same way I had at Sauron’s, if that was his desire -</em></p><p>Another flicker of memory and ancient pain, an hammer already stained with the blood of their kin swinging down to break their own skull-</p><p><em> -but </em> dying <em>is </em>easy<em>, and poor repayment.</em></p><p><em> Then give me your reasons, and </em> I<em> will judge.</em></p><p>He sighed in her mind. <em>Once, many thousands of years ago, Sauron sought my skill for the completion of the One Ring. I know not how it could be so, given he was the one who </em>taught <em><span class="u">me </span>and the other Gwaith-i-Mírdain the art in the guise of </em>Annatar<em>, but </em>his <em>skill was less than </em>mine<em>, and to force my hand he destroyed Eregion and bound me in his thrall. Yet his arrogance, his belief that with even the unfinished Ring none could defy him, let me slip his noose. I stole the One Ring from him and escaped - but I could not bring myself to destroy it. I did not think it </em>could<em> be destroyed, even when I held it in my hand over Orodruin; I feared that if I let it slip and it did not return to the fire, there were be no way of retrieving it if ever there was a way to truly end it.</em></p><p>
  <em> As I understand it, that was the Ring itself preying on your fears. </em>
</p><p><em> Indeed it was, and I know that now, but the Rings of Power I had made had never behaved in such a way, never acted with the will of their own, and so at the time I did </em> not<em> know. I let myself be swayed, and instead sought to use it to throw Sauron down with an army of his own orcs.</em></p><p><em> I failed, and my mother and my sister and I paid the price. And then Sauron bound my </em> fëa <em>to Mordor’s soil, and I wandered the dark for countless years - even now that we are all free of his shadow, I know not exactly how long. I saw Sauron raise his numberless hordes against the West, and I saw him defeated at the foot of Barad-dûr by the Last Alliance of Elves and Men - but again, the Ring was not destroyed, and his spirit endured. </em>Once <em>I could have passed off as coincidence - my own failure, my own </em>weakness <em>- but </em>twice<em>… </em>That <em>was the beginning of a </em>pattern<em>.</em></p><p><em> So I thought, if Sauron cannot be </em> destroyed<em>, if he cannot be stopped from </em>dominating<em>, then he must be</em> <em>dominated in his turn, his will crushed and broken as he would crush and break </em>ours<em>. And that thought grew into a </em>monster<em> inside of me, until I knew nothing else. And then when perceived betrayal came from one who seemed to share my goal…</em></p><p>
  <em> You repaid it in kind. </em>
</p><p>He nodded, then whispered, <em>Talion may forgive me, but I will never forgive myself.</em></p><p>And then they flew the rest of the way to Mordor in silence.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Eighteen: Three Hearts Afire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Eighteen: Three Hearts Afire</h1><hr/><p>The army of wraiths was finally in sight, and Talion heard Ratbag curse softly behind him, though everyone else remained silent. Hûra had only exaggerated a little when he said it was horizon to horizon; from the ground it probably looked that way. But from the top of the Moonshadow tower, he could clearly see the jagged edges of the scattered ranks, and how far back they went.</p><p>Ratbag was right to curse. </p><p>Heavy footsteps came up the stairs behind him, and Bruz stepped out onto the lookout platform that ringed the top of the tower, the hellhawk on his shoulder seeming like a tiny songbird compared to his bulk. “Message from Serka, Boss,” he rasped, holding out the sliver of paper, “The Vanishin’ Sons made it to Coldharbour in time, an’ they’re fortifyin’ the city as best they can just in case. An’ Mozû ain’t far behind ‘em, but it’s slow goin’.”</p><p><strong>“Thank you, Bruz. That’s something, at least.” </strong>He took the message - the paper only <em>looked</em> like a sliver in the Olog’s huge hands - and read it, but it said the same. A moment later it was balefire and ash on the wind. <strong>“What about Názkûga and Seregost?”</strong></p><p>“Nothin’ yet, but if I know him, he’s so busy workin’ that he forgot to send a hellhawk.”</p><p>
  <strong>“Send another to make sure he got our message, please. And request an update from Cirith Ungol and the other fortresses along the Morgul Pass, including Minas Morgul. I’m hoping it won’t be nearly so <em>dire</em>, but they need to be ready for a fighting retreat into Gondor, and to head south toward the Harad lands.”</strong>
</p><p>“Can do.” The Olog thudded off.</p><p>Az-Harto hummed behind the Ringwraith, Ratbag perched on his shoulder. <em>“He has recovered well from your shaming, and does not seem to resent you for it.”</em></p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>“I don't actually know if he </em>
  </strong>
  <strong>can<em> resent me. He does seem more himself and he’s not screaming about the fortress in Nurn anymore, but I hesitate to call him ‘recovered’.”</em></strong>
</p><p>
  <em>“Take the little victories where you can, Gravewalker. Like this one.”</em>
</p><p>The Olog pointed, and Talion followed his gaze.</p><p>A speck of red between the thickening clouds resolved into Fëanor flying almost dangerously high, though she was already beginning a slow, angled spiral that would bring her down over the plateau of Gorgoroth to the city at the edge of the mountains.</p><p>Ioreth was alone on her back - and yet not alone at all.</p><p>His dead heart seized in his chest.</p><p><strong><em>The Betrayer!</em></strong> Isildur’s Ring nearly purred, and his hands flew up to cover his ears as if it actually did something to muffle the sound, <strong><em>Years of loyal friendship and service you gave him, but still he abandoned you in the dark for another, one</em> lesser<em> than you, left you to die cold and alone, and still he failed! Here at last is your chance to repay him in blood and pain!</em> </strong></p><p><strong>“Shut up, you damned stupid thing, <em>shut up!”</em></strong> Talion snarled at it, clawed gauntlets digging into his skin, his whole body doubling over as it shrieked in his mind and he tried to escape.</p><p>“Talion.”</p><p>He didn't even look at whatever Idril handed him, just recognized the <em>athelas </em>pill by the shape of it between his fingers and threw it back, swallowed without even a drop of water to smooth the way. Even though his body could process everything faster, it would still take time for the concentration to work, to muffle the voice of the Ring - time they didn't have. <strong>“Come on.”</strong></p><p>They all headed down the long spiral stair to the actual citadel itself, where orcs and Men and Elves and dwarves were all running around preparing the last of their defenses. Yet the crowds parted for Talion and his companions at once and passed around them as they all kept working.</p><p>All the local captains and warchiefs and leaders, regardless of race, were gathered in one of the meeting halls, together with the visitors from Gondor and every member of the Dark and Mystic Tribes who made it to the city before the gates closed. Talion went to the head of the gathering, all eyes on him, and said, <strong>“I will not lie to you. This situation <em>is</em> dire. Two years ago, Sauron sent a hundred and thirty thousand orcs up against the White City of Gondor. Today, <em>four times</em> that number - more than <em>five hundred thousand</em> - are making their way <em>here</em>.</strong></p><p><strong>“But. Most of them are wraiths, spirits of the dead, and we have magic that can hold them back, or even turn them on their fellows.”</strong> He inclined his head to the Mystic Tribe, who grinned and returned the gesture. <strong>“In addition, the other Ringwraiths - the Hammer and the Staff - will not be able to join the battle because all of their power is bent to sustaining their army.”</strong> He looked to the Dark Tribe. <strong>“If anyone can but get behind enemy lines and find them, <em>wound </em>them, break their focus, even for a moment, it might be enough to cut the size of their army down, turn the tide in our favor.”</strong></p><p>There were more grins, and many of them pulled out various blades to start sharpening.</p><p>
  <strong>“But even more than any of that… the New Ring’s power is greater than all of the Nine combined - and it’s almost here.”</strong>
</p><hr/><p>There were three attempted assassinations in the next hour alone, but not one of them got close enough to even nick his skin. But he refused the advice of his warchiefs and joined the Mystic Tribe on the walls, the voice of the Ring smothered once again, letting him work freely to throw massive spell weaves out and turn or disperse huge numbers of the spirits. </p><p>It felt good to <em>fight</em> again, to throw fistful after fistful of balefire into the enemy without having to be mindful of where it fell, to not have to worry about chasing his foe away from homes and livelihoods, to cut the strings holding spirits and replace them with his own - but with many of these, there was no need to actually <em>bind </em>them again. The spirits of the Men but especially the Numenoreans were most eager to strike back at the orc-wraiths and the Nazgûl controlling them.</p><p>And then Fëanor got close enough for him to touch her mind through their bond.</p><hr/><p>Ioreth frowned when Fëanor stopped descending, instead maintaining her current altitude but picking up speed to take them past Moonshadow and into the Maegond Spur of the Ephel Dúath. “Fëanor? What’s going on? Talion’s <em>there</em>, not in Núrn!”</p><p>Fëanor<em>?</em> Celebrimbor repeated incredulously, <em>Her name is</em> Fëanor<em>?</em></p><p>The drake rumbled under them, and impossibly, the New Ring made the sound into something they could understand.<em> Talion says to circle around through the foothills and come in from behind, to avoid arrows fired up from the ground.</em></p><p>She used different “words” than that - <em>Talion</em> was <em>Wingless-Master-of-Land-Not-Bloodkin-But-Still-Of-The-Nest</em>, <em>foothills</em> was <em>hard-earth-rock-spikes-smaller-than-other-hard-earth-rock-spikes</em>, <em>arrows</em> was <em>flying-piercing-pain-from-afar</em>, among others - but the New Ring translated it into something they could parse the meaning of.</p><p><em>Wise,</em> Celebrimbor said, <em>If we were shot out of the sky and couldn't reach him - or were wounded and died, the New Ring might fall into the hands of the enemy instead, which would spell our doom - and likely everyone else’s as well.</em></p><p>They could see Talion on the outer wall with his people, throwing spell after explosive spell into the hordes of wraiths trying to kill them all, and with the New Ring, Ioreth could see the spun thread of all the magic on the battlefield, the warp and weft of all the spells. The Hammer and the Staff were like burlap or sackcloth, thick and coarse, inexpert and inefficient; they were expending far too much energy trying to do the same thing that Talion was. <em>He</em> was like the fine cloth known as <em>silk</em> that she had seen a few times in court, the thread of his spells soft as down and slender as a spider’s web but as strong as the earth itself, no wasted power or movement.</p><p>As terrible and horrifying as his dark, Ring-granted powers were, Ioreth could not deny that he was a master of the art.</p><p>And then they were in the mountains, Fëanor already angling her wings and body to bring them around and resume their descent. In minutes, Moonshadow was in sight again, and the drake pulled her wings in and sent them into a steep dive, aiming for one of the open courtyards in the city. Ioreth swallowed back a delighted and terrified cry as the world fell out from under them, wind whipping past. </p><p>Celebrimbor’s joy sang through her as well; he and Talion had only flown together the once, with Carnán against the Balrog Tar Goroth, lending the nature spirit the strength of the New Ring-</p><p>Speak of the Nazgûl. A stream of green mist and bright leaves whipped past them at an even greater speed, and took the shape of a smaller fire drake made from thick bark and supple vines. Carnán shrieked. <em>The cold metal Ring returns, together with its Maker! The circle is unbroken! Bring light to their abyss, and banish them forever!</em></p><p>She swooped over the buildings and spat a gout of balefire as big as Fëanor into the midst of the specters. They shrieked and burned and vanished entirely, the threads binding them snapping under the sheer power of the nature spirit.</p><p>There was a sharp whistle from below, and Fëanor looked, then rumbled. <em>Talion says for you to fly with Earth-Mother Carnán and give her the strength of your Cold-Metal-Fire-Within Ring of Power, and together we will seek the Hole-In-The-World Ringwraiths. His own Cold-Metal will cause black-rot-pain-inside for Earth-Mother.</em></p><p>“Fine with me!” Ioreth managed over the wind, “But how are we supposed to get over to her?!”</p><p><em>Allow me,</em> Celebrimbor said, and when she yielded control, he unhooked their harness from Fëanor’s, then lifted their hands - and called forth a ghostly silver-blue bow. Time seemed to slow around them as he aimed at the airborne nature spirit, gathering his power, and then they-</p><p>
  <em>:moved:</em>
</p><p>-were on <em>her</em> back instead, vines already snaking around their legs to hold them fast, keep them from falling off with the sudden change. Then Celebrimbor planted their hands on her back and let the New Ring’s raw power flow, the bark under them thickening, the green of leaves and vines intensifying, bright flowers and fruits bursting to life. Carnán<em> shrieked</em>, then dove again and breathed <em>white</em> fire on the wraiths as she passed. </p><p>Fëanor screamed in answer, and they looked to see that Talion was on her back once more, where he was supposed to be, shadows gathering close in the form of dark mist around them. The clouds overhead thickened and darkened, poison lightning already lancing through-</p><p>His touch against their minds was dark and twisted, his soul blackened by his Ring, but there was no <em>evil</em> in it. <strong>I see them. Come.</strong></p><p>And then Fëanor dove, and Carnán followed, both of them spitting fire - purple-black and blue-white - into the army of wraiths. </p><p>Despite the confusing tangle of magic on the battlefield, Talion <em>had</em> found the other Ringwraiths, tracing the threads back to where they were spun, and his drake spat a purple-black fireball into their midst, Carnán’s blue-white one right behind. The Hammer and the Staff both threw themselves out of the way, but they couldn't do much more if they wanted to hang onto their army.</p><p>But they didn't need to. The strings tugged, and hundreds of wraiths from the rear of the force turned back to strike.</p><p>
  <strong>Celebrimbor!</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Talion, I’m sorry-</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Later!</em>
  </strong>
  <strong> The New Ring sustains their power; can you cut them off from it?!</strong>
</p><p><em>Not without cutting </em>you <em>off as well, and </em>that<em> I will not do.</em></p><p>
  <strong>A fight, then. Carnán?</strong>
</p><p>This <em>fire cleanses, and none shall pass its wall.</em></p><p>
  <em>Ioreth, get ready.</em>
</p><p>When the nature spirit swung low to breathe a stream of balefire over the specters, the living orcs fleeing from the flames, her vines released them, and Celebrimbor leaped from her back, hitting the ground and rolling once before regaining their feet. A cloud of black smoke hit the ground next to them and dispersed, revealing Talion with Urfael in hand, the sword already glowing green.</p><p>His burning eyes met theirs. <strong>I’ll handle the Staff. Can you take the Hammer?</strong></p><p>
  <em>Ioreth?</em>
</p><p><em>Maybe not </em>finish him<em>, but we can definitely hold him off.</em> </p><p>
  <strong>Good enough. Let’s go.</strong>
</p><p>He whipped past them as half-smoke, a vague outline of his form visible within, and brought Urfael down - and was blocked by the staff of the Staff.</p><p>But as much as they wanted to help him against the Staff, Ioreth and Celebrimbor had an opponent of their own, and they lunged out of the way just in time as the hammer came down. It hit the ground with the power of a mountain behind it and put a crater in the earth below.</p><p>
  <em>Oh my…</em>
</p><p><em>Indeed. But Talion and I have faced him once before. He won’t get any </em>faster <em>than that, but neither will he </em>tire<em>. As long as we keep our eyes on him, we’ll be alright. Are you any good with weapons?</em></p><p>
  <em>I can handle a sword without stabbing myself, and a bow with reasonable accuracy, but I’m no Elf.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Neither was Talion. We can make it work - just stick to the basics.</em>
</p><p>This time a blue-white sword appeared in her hand, longer than she was used to but of a similar weight. The Hammer hissed and leaped for them, and then there was no more time to think. They dodged together and brought their sword up, gouging open the Ringwraith’s side - though only for a moment. Even as they whirled back to face the Hammer, it knitted shut before their eyes - and yet to their dual Seen and Unseen sight, he was subtly weaker where the blade had cut.</p><p>Beyond the Ringwraith, Ioreth and Celebrimbor saw that Carnán and Fëanor had expanded the wall to a ring of blue-and-purple flames that completely surrounded them, cutting Sauron’s last servants off from their army, living and dead, and the fire itself was severing thread after thread that bound the specters.</p><p>Ioreth allowed herself a grin of triumph, and the Nazgûl saw and shrieked in wrath. But Celebrimbor warded off the effects of the Hammer’s fearful cry, and they darted out of the way as he started swinging his hammer in wild arcs, focusing more on trying to put an end to them than skill or efficiency.</p><p>They dodged an especially out of control swing and laid open the Ringwraith’s back with their blade, then kicked him towards the magical fire. The Hammer stumbled and fell, then recoiled from the flames. He severed all the remaining threads binding the spirits to better fight them, and spun back to his feet, swinging his hammer in a wide circle as he went. They ducked and stabbed him in the stomach with their sword, his spin splitting the gash wide and essentially gutting him. But that wound also healed in seconds, and Ioreth and Celebrimbor were forced to retreat when he slammed the hammer down again where they had been standing.</p><p>The wild swings continued, and despite Celebrimbor’s aid Ioreth began to tire - but then the Ringwraith jerked and staggered forward a step, a glowing green sword piercing his chest from behind.</p><p><strong>“Cut his Ring off!”</strong> Talion shouted, driving Urfael in harder, <strong>“Left hand - just cut it all off!”</strong></p><p>For the briefest instant Celebrimbor was back atop Barad-dûr, Sauron at his feet with a dagger in hand, the edge slicing through Eltariel’s fingers, and Ioreth shuddered at his remembered pain of the sudden sundering.</p><p>But that moment of hesitation was just that - a moment. They leaped forward and landed on the head of the hammer, their sword becoming a spear-point dagger. Their hand shot out and seized the Hammer’s left wrist in an unbreakable grip, ripped it up off the handle of the weapon, and brought their blade down, severed fingers and Ring falling away.</p><p>The Hammer <em>shrieked</em> in pain - and then slowly dissolved into ash that blew away on the hot wind.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Nineteen: When the Night Is Over</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Nineteen: When the Night Is Over</h1><hr/><p>Talion, now the Last of the Nine and officially Lord of Mordor, spirited Celebrimbor away the moment everything settled after the threat of the other Ringwraiths was finally ended. Ioreth could still dimly feel the Elf lord’s <em>fëa</em> connected to her own, linked to the Ring of Power still on her finger, giving him presence in the world but stretched thin by distance. From the top of the Moonshadow tower, she saw flashes of light, of magic, out in Gorgoroth - poison green and silver blue, with the former far more prevalent than the latter.</p><p>But whether they were fighting the scattered survivors of the attack or each other, she couldn't say. Not until they came back, at least.</p><p>Fëanor sprawled morosely next to her on the stones. Talion had taken her to fly out into the wasteland but then sent her back to Moonshadow, much to the drake’s disappointment. But her egg needed to be incubated by its actual mother now and then, to ensure that the drakeling developed properly and knew her when it emerged from the shell, so she was half-curled around the bundle of blankets the egg was nested in.</p><p>Ioreth bent over to pat her side. “I know,” she said in understanding, “I want to be out there with him too - I don’t want him to leave my sight ever again - but this is something he has to do on his own.”</p><p>The drake matriarch huffed indignantly and rumbled low in her throat, and the Ring translated. <em>Why though? He is no longer Only-Himself, and hasn't been for many Season-Turns. Four of my foremothers have been Two-as-One with him, and they flew together as one against the Follow-Fighters of Great-Eye until he passed to me. Then he became one of the Holes-In-The-World, and I Waited-For-Sunrise-To-Drive-Away-The-Dark, and someday my daughters will take my place, and their daughters after them. He makes us Fly-For-Days strong and Understand-Working-Together-Trapping-Prey-Easy-Meal-For-All smart, and we give him Taste-The-Sky wings; we are the Wind-Rider </em>Two-as-One<em>, not Only-Ourselves. Why must he do whatever this is without </em>me<em>?</em></p><p>“This is the closing of a circle from before your earliest foremother’s time at his side,” Ioreth answered, sitting down next to her, “He did it alone then, and so he must do it alone now.”</p><p>The drake snorted. <em>That’s stupid.</em></p><p>“I never said it wasn't.”</p><p>Ioreth sat with her for almost half an hour, watching the flashes and flares, before she got up, patted the drake’s side one more time, and then descended the stairs.</p><p>Dirhael was laid up in a large hall that had been turned into a makeshift infirmary. He had fought hard and stood back to back with the rest of their party, slaying dozens of specters and enemy orcs - and then ended up twisting his ankle while trying to help clean up in the aftermath. Celebrimbor had been amused at that - <em>Very much his father’s son </em>- but had lent Ioreth his strength without hesitation, letting her carry him to the hall where the healers - including the king and queen - were tending the wounded.</p><p>Now Ioreth sought him out, and found him staring at the plain ceiling high overhead in frustration. (The orcs did good, solid work, but they weren’t quite up to making <em>art</em> just yet, and especially not back when Moonshadow had first been built, when they were trying to scrape out an existence under Talion’s protection, away from Sauron’s control.) But Dirhael turned to look when he heard her approach. “Has Father returned?”</p><p>“Not yet.” She pulled over a small stool and sat next to him. “But he - I still don't know if <em>lives</em> is the proper word, but I saw signs of his power from the summit of the tower.”</p><p>“But they’ve been gone a week,” Dirhael said with a frown, “Surely he would have made a decision by now.”</p><p>“Your father has a very complex relationship with Celebrimbor,” she replied, recalling her conversation with Talion the morning after he told them what had become of him in Mordor, “It will <em>not</em> be easy to resolve all that lies between them. I would not be surprised in the slightest if it took <em>years</em> to work through everything.”</p><p>“<em>Years?</em>” Dirhael repeated, aghast, “But… he…”</p><p>“As I said, <em>complex</em>. They were friends once, and I think your father would like to be again, but a betrayal such as he endured, even if it was not completely of Celebrimbor’s own will, is not so easily set aside.” </p><p>She did not say, And <em>he needs to work out where he stands in relation to both Celebrimbor and myself. And I find that while I am still angry over what happened on The Bridge, I would not object to </em>sharing <em>if they resolve this and Talion finds himself unwilling to let either of us go. He has always had a big heart, and I have no wish to cause him more pain.</em></p><p>
  <em>And perhaps in time, Celebrimbor and I could come to an understanding of our own. But all of that relies on Talion, first and foremost. I will not betray my husband.</em>
</p><hr/><p>Talion and Celebrimbor did eventually return from Gorgoroth, the Ringwraith apparently satisfied with whatever apology the Elven smith had given (<em>done kowtowing like the Easterlings if he was wise,</em> Ioreth thought with a stab of residual anger). Then they all began working to repair the damage done by the Hammer and the Staff and their army. The specters had gotten over Moonshadow’s walls to attack the city’s people and tear down their homes and workplaces, so there was a <em>lot</em> of work to be done.</p><p>Celebrimbor and by extension Ioreth were put in charge of forging whatever was needed in metal, with Maglor as their assistant and almost two dozen inquisitive children as their eager observers. Ioreth couldn't deny that she was just as amazed as the children to watch her hands - overlaid with Celebrimbor’s ghostly ones - take raw metal, sometimes fresh from the ground or even recovered from the wreckage, and shape it into something new and <em>useful</em>, even if it was just something as simple as nails. It was nothing she had ever thought of learning before, harder work even than fighting, but it was interesting indeed and despite all that stood between them, Celebrimbor was a skillful teacher.</p><p><em>My grandfather was far more skilled than I,</em> he replied when she said as much as they handed off a bundle of metal brackets and a box of nails, <em>Indeed, he was deemed the mightiest in skill and craftsmanship amongst all the Eldar, and spent much of his life making one thing or another, the greatest of which are the Silmarils of legend.</em></p><p>
  <em>I have also heard that he was the one who made the Seeing Stones. Is there any truth to that?</em>
</p><p><em>Aye, the Palantíri also came from his hands. I have been made to understand that they were a precursor of sorts to the Silmarils, though I was but a babe-in-arms when he shaped them. But as great as his skills were, he was also known for his selfishness and pride, which were his downfall - and that of </em>many<em> others.</em></p><p>Neither of them said aloud the parallels between grandfather and grandson, but Ioreth felt regret and shame lance through Celebrimbor’s <em>fëa</em>. Though she had only stories, in her heart of hearts she was certain that <em>Fëanor </em>had never regretted as Celebrimbor did the words and deeds which caused so much trouble and strife, the echoes of which they felt even now.</p><p>
  <em>Perhaps, in time…</em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <em>“Talion.”</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>“Celebrimbor?”</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>“With yours and Ioreth’s permission, there is something I would like to try.”</em>
</p><p>Husband and wife exchanged a glance, then Ioreth gestured to the Elf-wraith to sit with them. “What did you have in mind?”</p><p><em>“I have noticed that even now that Sauron is gone, the Ninth still speaks to you,”</em> he said to the Ringwraith, <em>“Unfortunately, I have experience with making the specific spellwork on the Nine and the Seven that bound them to Sauron, but I also know how to make Rings of Power</em> without<em> those spells, as with the Three. I don’t know what effects, if any, it would have on your ability to brand or resurrect the dead, but I would like to study yours, to see if with the New Ring we might be able to strip out those parts of its magic without compromising the whole, to turn it from one into the other.”</em></p><p>“Would it not be more expedient to shift from me into him and do away with that Ring entirely?” Ioreth asked, “Or replace it with the New Ring?”</p><p><strong>“I am reluctant to have Celebrimbor possess me once more, at least right now,”</strong> Talion answered her, <strong>“I have fought hard, and still do, but this Ring’s corruption runs <em>deep</em> inside me, and I have no wish to let it deal him harm.”</strong></p><p><em>“And I am now bound to the New Ring,” </em>Celebrimbor added, <em>“Where it goes, I follow, willing or no. It </em>might <em>be possible to temporarily shift over, completely undo his Ring’s power and remake it </em>properly<em>, and then shift back... but even with the New Ring still here, the power of the Eldar is fading, and I fear that if I remove the Ring’s power entirely, I will not be able to put it back.”</em></p><p>“A rock and a hard place on all sides.”</p><p>
  <em>“Indeed.”</em>
</p><p>Ioreth sighed and turned to Talion. “What do you think, love?”</p><p><strong>“If we can manage it, it <em>would </em>be nice to <em>not </em>have a voice in my head telling me to burn everything to the ground,”</strong> the ex-Ranger said dryly.</p><p>“Then let’s get started.”</p><hr/><p>It took only a day for Celebrimbor to map the fine but <em>strong</em> weave of magic that made Talion’s ring into a Ring of Power, but it took another five days for him to pick out exactly where to cut out the binding spells and how to weave the remainder back together so that the spellwork would not just <em>unravel entirely</em> and kill the Ringwraith it sustained. The King of Gondor and the Lord of Mordor took to talking terms of peace while the wraith traced the paths of the magic, since Talion had to stay seated with his wife and their Elf bent over his hand.</p><p>On the sixth day, when Talion signaled that he was ready, both Celebrimbor and Ioreth took a deep breath and then reached out with the New Ring, freezing the weave and working fast. Even so, they still heard the Man gasp and choke as the Ring’s power was momentarily suspended, reopening the wound in his throat even as his free hand flew up in an attempt to hold it shut.</p><p>In one corner of the room, Dirhael jerked forward a step, a hand coming up, but Aragorn and Arwen caught him before he could interrupt, holding him between them even as they all watched.</p><p>It was begun - and done - in seconds, and when they released it, the Ring <em>glowed</em>, the jewel in the band changing from a deep blood red to clear and bright before their very eyes. Talion relaxed with a sigh, his throat sealing up once more, then rolled his fingers.</p><p>The power came easily at his call, and it was still the same poison green as before, but no longer <em>heavy</em> and sickening, darkly whispering in the deep corners of everyone’s minds the moment it came awake. Instead it was just <em>there</em>, and when he flicked the power out for just an instant, reaching for one of the restless dead, the spirit came, and it did not taste of dust or decay.</p><p>Talion’s shoulders slumped in relief, and despite the still-black blood now staining his front, he pulled his wife and their Elf-wraith into his arms - an embrace they returned just as fierce.</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Epilogue: Let There Be Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Epilogue: Let There Be Light</h1><hr/><p>Though reluctant to leave Talion, Ioreth and Dirhael did return to Minas Tirith with Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir, and Éowyn, with Celebrimbor in tow. <strong>“I imagine that there are many things in the White City you need to take care of before you can even dream of coming here to stay, my love, if indeed you wish to,”</strong> the Last of the Nine had said to his wife, <strong>“but you will be welcome to visit at <em>any</em> time.</strong></p><p>
  <strong>“And that goes for the rest of you as well.”</strong>
</p><p>Faramir was pleased. “We may just take you up on that,” he said, gesturing to himself and Éowyn, “We are soon to live <em>relatively</em> nearby; we have been given a seat in Emyn Arnen.”</p><p><strong>“So the Stewards of Gondor return to their home, after so many years,” </strong>Talion replied with a slight smile, <strong>“It will be good to have neighbors who aren’t <em>completely</em> afraid of us - and also someone who knows how to handle all the Rohirric horses we keep finding.”</strong></p><p>Éowyn distinctly perked up at that. “My people’s horses?” she repeated, “You’ve found the ones stolen by Sauron?”</p><p>
  <strong>“Some of them anyway, and their descendants, mostly in the wilds of Nurn and the outer edges of Lithlad to the east. We’re trying to round them up; they keep eating the fields.”</strong>
</p><p>“I will be glad to receive them, and return them to my people.”</p><hr/><p>The Lord of Mordor came with them as far as Minas Morgul, and there they bade him farewell, finally turning towards Gondor once more. Faramir and Éowyn parted ways with them when the road divided and set off for Emyn Arnen, leaving Aragorn, Arwen, Dirhael, Ioreth, and Celebrimbor to continue on to the White City.</p><p>“It’s hard to believe that we have only been gone for three weeks,” Arwen said as they cantered down the last stretch of the Morgul Road between them and Osgiliath.</p><p>“Indeed,” the king agreed, “So much has happened that it feels as if a lifetime has passed.” He looked ahead to where Ioreth and Dirhael rode side by side, with Celebrimbor seated cross-legged on the back of the former’s horse, talking with the latter about ancient battles and deeds long past. “What do you think?”</p><p>Arwen smiled. “Despite all that happened, I think Talion has chosen wisely. As have you.”</p><p>Aragorn turned his face away to hide the redness of his cheeks.</p><hr/><p>Boromir was there to welcome them when they returned, stepping forward to embrace his king without pause. Then when Arwen opened her arms to him, he blushed, then gave her the same fierce embrace that he had given Aragorn, which she returned. </p><p>They parted smiling, and Boromir turned back to the king. “What news?”</p><p>Aragorn pulled a roll of parchment from one of his saddlebags and handed it to the other Man, also smiling. “Peace at last, my dear friend. <em>Peace at last</em>.”</p>
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